He Defines Me
by PissedOffEskimo
Summary: Rewrite. AU. Rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued. Slash: hplv, hpss, hpdm, hplm. Please read the warnings and author's notes.
1. Chapter 1

**H**e **D**efines **M**e TBGC

**A**uthor: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)**  
P**airing: Harry/Voldemort; Harry/Snape; Harry/Draco; Harry/Lucius**  
R**ating: Mature**  
W**arning: slavery, brainwashing, noncon, shotakon**  
S**ummary: AU; rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued.  
**A**uthor's Note: This is a rewrite. For the sake of posterity, the old version of this story has been left up, feel free to take a look and giggle madly at me ineptitude. Now, onto important business: this story is very disturbing. It is about someone being raised as a sex slave from infancy and the kind of effects that would have on the person later in life. If this bothers you, please, don't read it. If this offends you, please do not read it.

* * *

**C**hapter **O**ne

Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Death Eater for the Dark Lord, and spy for Albus Dumbledore, had been waiting a long time for this battle. To be specific, he'd been waiting fifteen years.

Fifteen, long and tiring years in which the war between the Dark and Light sides of the wizarding world waxed and waned in constant fluctuation. One moment the Dark Lord seemed sure to win, and next, the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's secret army, shoved him back, and he hunkered down for a year or two of planning.

It was annoying to those caught in the middle, whose line of loyalty was hard to pin and it was damned frustrating to those like Severus who were spies, walking a thin rope just to keep themselves from getting caught, and it scared the shite out of anyone who, like the Potters, were willing to take an obvious stand against Him, no matter who was currently winning.

When Voldemort had killed the Potter's those fifteen years ago, their deaths had not, as he expected, been a devastating toll on the wizarding world. It had been just the opposite. The small family of three had become martyrs. Shortly after their fall was the first time Voldemort had been forced to take a step back and regroup. It was the last thing any of them, Severus included, had expected, and it was the beginning of the trend that would plague them for so long.

Only days after the death of the Potter family, Severus had seen what he then hoped was the beginning of the end. Voldemort had called them to a meeting and announced that they needed a secure location, a headquarters. For a man so cautious and secretive, it seemed strange that he would suddenly want a permanent address, but Severus was hardly going to argue the point. Up until now, his position as a spy had yielded few results, his most poignant failing being that he could not pinpoint a place for the Order to attack.

While Severus gathered data and tried to determine the location of the headquarters, Voldemort continued to act stranger still. For one, the new headquarters itself, warded to keep even those apparating to it from knowing its location, was nothing more than a muggle house. Granted, it was two stories and quite expansive, but it was still a _muggle_ house, in a _muggle_ village, somewhere out in the middle of _muggle_ nowhere.

As if that had not been enough to convince Severus that the Dark Lord had finally lost his mind completely, Voldemort had insisted Narcissa Malfoy help him decorate. Severus might not have known about this if he had not been there discussing a particularly difficult potion the Lord wanted when she'd first arrived, carrying her tiny son, Draco, with her. Apparently, she was to start in his bed chambers, as he was having great difficulty sleeping. Something about the Dark Lord losing sleep over the decor of his suite was unsettling at best, especially as the results of said sleep depravation were becoming visibly apparent, leaving dark circles under his eyes and occasionally what looked like food on his robes.

Severus knew from listening to Lucius' rants about her decorating frenzies, that she was capable of finishing a master suite in only a matter of days. However, even weeks later, she was still spending hours of every day in his private chamber. The Death Eater grape vine had it that Lucius approved of whatever she was doing. The grape vine also had it that what she was doing was teaching him to change, feed, hold, and rock Draco to sleep. Which just went to prove exactly how reliable that particular grape vine was. Severus would give his right hand before he could see Voldemort touching a baby and Lucius was certainly in a mood those months, snapping at everyone who stepped within ten feet of him and firing off Crucio like it was a charm, which hardly led Severus to believe he in any way approved of what his wife and his liege were up to.

Within a few months, though, things began to calm down. Narcissa's visits slowed, then stopped, and not a word was heard of it again. Voldemort appeared to be getting his rest again, though he had the occasional bought of crankiness. Lucius' anger even seemed to temper itself some, though he'd never been a particularly congenial man to begin with.

Despite the fact that he was worn, tired, and in dire straights over the state of his master suite, Voldemort had neglected none of his wards or various obscuring charms. The little muggle home was an undetectable as Hogwarts. Perhaps even more so, as it was meant to be invisible to wizard and muggle alike. Death Eaters were brought to the location once by means of slidealong apparition with one of the few members of Voldemort's inner circle, after which, a clear mental image was all they needed to return.

'A clear mental image' did nothing to aid Severus in his search for the Headquarters. At least, he had thought as much, until one of his students, a second year mudblood named Herman Fulborough, had seen a drawing Severus had done of it and said, quite plainly, "I know that house, we have a picture of it in our living room."

Apparently, his grandfather's cousin had been the caretaker of the home some years back. They'd never been friends with the man, but Herman's mother thought the picture had an eerie quality to it. It seemed incredibly ironic that a depiction of the Dark Lord's headquarters was hanging above an electric fireplace in Kent and that his possible downfall would be brought about by a mudblood, the very thing he was and despised all at the same time.

Having finally found the location to attack, Severus had been sure, along with many of the Aurors, that this was surely the end. That by attacking him at his base of operations, his long standing headquarters, that they would finally capture Voldemort and end this bloody war. Better yet, Severus was counting on him refusing to budge and getting killed, which, admittedly, still resulted in the end of the war, but would be much more satisfying to him personally.

"Tell me again, Igor, why I should believe that you have not betrayed me." Voldemort's overly patient tone snapped Severus from his thoughts. If there was one thing Voldemort was not, it was patient and that tone, the one that said he was willing to wait all night to get the answers he wanted, meant exactly the opposite. It meant someone was going to die and most likely it would happen soon.

"M... my lord, I've always... I'd never..."

"Yes, yes, we've been through this. You've always been faithful. You've never double cross me." Voldemort tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "What I'm not entirely sure of, Igor, is whether you are telling me the truth. Are you?"

"Of course."

Severus saw the promise of death even before the killing curse was cast. Vaguely, he remembered a time, long ago, when he would have had to fight to watch this without cringing. That time had long since past and so he kept his eyes open, watching the wand raise, Voldemort's lower lip drawing in to form the words...

The house shook and Severus braced his feet, barely managing to keep himself from falling into an undignified heap on the floor. A glance towards Voldemort's direction confirmed that Lucius had not been so successful and was angrily getting back to his feet, straightening his robes.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort was standing, looking murderous, "It's an attack."

Severus tensed, because that was a far more acceptable reaction than sighing in relief. Fifteen years of waiting and they were finally here.

It didn't take the Death Eaters long to mobilize. The vast majority of them were great cowards, yes, but they were far more afraid of what Voldemort would do to them than anything the Ministry might have in store.

As soon as he was outside Severus found an Auror he knew to be in the Order and began flinging spells in her direction, though purposefully wide of her actual person. She had seemed annoyed at first, until she'd realized it was him. They set about a game, a dance, almost, by which only their sloppiest, most harmless spells actually hit, and hoped that no one noticed.

Severus was throwing off a weak leg locking curse, when he noticed that he, along with the other Death Eaters, had fallen back nearly to the house. It was most definitely time to check on the situation. Giving the girl an almost apologetic look, he threw a well aimed Stunning charm and made a rush towards Lucius, who was helping the back line keep the wards up around the house.

Seeing Severus rushing in his direction, Lucius looked back at Voldemort. "We have to retreat!" Much to Severus' disdain, the Dark Lord nodded, turning around to head into the house. Trying desperately to maintain his concentration and speak clearly at the same time, Lucius looked over his shoulder, "My Lord, we can not afford the time, leave it."

His face darkened with rage, and Severus stepped back a pace, adding his own weak influence to the wards while listening intently. "I will not leave it behind, Malfoy."

"Then have someone else get it, you need to get out of here now. As my lord and Master I will not see you get caught over some fool possession."

For a moment, Severus expected Him to curse Lucius into the netherworlds, but he simply scowled instead, "You may be my right hand man, but do not speak to me that way. Snape!" Turning his head, and dropping what little magic he was maintaining, Severus turned to the Dark Lord and nodded. "Go to my room, get what's there and bring it to me. Do not fail."

Without waiting for a reply He walked away to announce their retreat. Lucius looked over his shoulder, gasping, "The wards will hold for a few minutes longer. When they drop, apparate to Malfoy Manor, I'll meet you there and we'll take it to the new headquarters."

Marching into the house, Severus looked around the halls to ensure that they were empty before removing his mask. Damn thing was stuffy, it impaired vision, hindered breathing, and was an over all bad idea, but most of His supporters preferred the anonymity is provided.

He'd half made it to the Dark Lords private room when it dawned on him that he didn't know what 'it' was. He had some idea of what it _might_ be, as he'd heard occasional gossip of a pet of some sort, but no one had ever seen it, let alone knew what kind of animal it was, or where it might be hiding as the house was violently shaking. Then, what if it wasn't an animal at all? What if was a book or a map, or, hell, his personal diary?

Severus opened the door to the Dark Lord's room, allowing himself a moment to take in the surroundings. The bed was set against the left most wall, large and imposing, but what caught his eye first was the cage at the foot of that bed. So, animal it was, and a rather large on if the size of the cage was anything to go by.

Sweeping his eyes around the surprisingly small room, he noted the bookshelf against the back wall, the high back, overly stuffed chair in one corner, a dark haired boy peering around from behind that chair, and an amour against the right wall. There was a door to the right as well, probably leading into... Wait, a boy?

Looking back at the chair he saw whoever it was duck back behind it, as though hoping he hadn't been seen. Severus stood his ground, forcing himself to loosen his grip on the doorknob. "Who's there?"

After a minute of silence, he heard a small, voice reply. "Are you a Death Eater?" It was slightly deeper than he'd expected, at half glance the boy had appeared to be no more than a young child.

When Severus gave no response, the boy slowly began to stand up and turn around. For nearly a full minute, Severus was stunned beyond breathing. It was a teenager, perhaps around fourteen or fifteen. He had varying lengths of dark brown hair, the longest to his chin, and the shortest nearly sticking up around his ears. His skin was ivory pale and completely unmarked from what Severus could see, and there really wasn't much that couldn't be seen. All the boy wore was a pair of loose fitted leather shorts, a thin collar around his neck, and thick leather wrist and ankle cuffs, complete with metal hoops. Severus did a double take as his eyes focused on what appeared to be a... nipple ring?

The boy's eyes were a sparkling green, wide and trusting as he scanned Severus, taking in his black robes and the white mask he held in his hand. "You are a Death Eater. What's going on? I've never seen you before."

Not sure how to reply, Severus stared a little longer, trying to gather his thoughts. There really was no mistaking it, no matter how unlikely it seemed, this was the 'it' Lucius and Voldemort had been talking about. This child was what he was supposed to deliver to Malfoy.

The boy took a slow step forward, "Mister, what's wrong? Where's Master? Is he hurt?"

Master. He'd called Voldemort Master. Shaking his head to clear it, Severus asked the first thing that came to mind, "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" The question rolled off the boy's tongue as though it were unfamiliar or tasted foul, "I'm Master's pet. Who are you?"

It had an arrogant sound to it, and Severus was half tempted to say something arrogant in return. However, now was not the time to let his temper get the best of him. He fought the urge to sigh as he tried to determine the best course of action. "Do you have a name?"

"I don't think so."

He sounded more innocent than Severus would have thought possibly from someone who called themselves Voldemort's pet. There was something familiar about him, something that just didn't fit with the scant clothing and collar. The house shook again and the boy gripped the chair, crouching down. "What's going on? The house's never moved before."

Severus took a deep breath. He couldn't take the boy back to the Dark Lord, but he would have to come up with a very good excuse, and soon. Voldemort would not be pleased at losing his pet. "Listen carefully, the house is being attacked and I was sent to fetch you, so you'll have to trust me."

He'd expected a fight. He'd expected an argument. He'd expected any number of things. What he hadn't expected was for the boy to shrug and come over to stand next to him, expression open and trusting. "Whatever you say."

As the wards crackled a final time and died completely, Severus felt the wash of energy, and quickly performed the apparition, sending them tumbling to the ground outside the gates of Hogwarts - tumbling, because when he's tried to place a hand on the child's shoulder, he'd been leached onto, gangly arms wrapped tightly around his waist, head tucked against Severus' chest as though the boy were frightened.

Seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, Severus took his cloak off and draped it around the child, who looked up at him with a face, not full of fear as Severus had expected, but curiosity and confusion, "What's that for?"

"Decency?" The look in the boy's face told him he had no clue what Severus was talking about. "Just walk, this is Hogwarts. You'll be staying here."

*

*

*

Dumbledore and Severus stood on either side of the door to the Potion Master's living room, watching the boy sitting cross legged on the floor contentedly watching them back. He hadn't moved in the ten minutes they'd been standing there, just stared at them, as though they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

For the entire walk from the gates to the small set of rooms Severus called his own, the boy's hold on him had constituted a death grip. The child's fingers had been white around the folds of his robes and Severus had had to tell him when they were reaching steps, because he'd refused to pull his face out of the black clothe long enough to see where he was going.

It had taken them nearly twenty minutes to get to the dungeons and through the painting that acted as Severus' door, but the moment the painting had thunked shut against wall, the boy had melted away from Severus. He hadn't take a step back, or looked around, he'd simple relaxed his grip and moved to stand straight, looking up at Severus with those hauntingly familiar, green eyes.

Putting hands on the boy's shoulders, Severus had pushed him back until the boy sat heavily on the couch, still looking up at Severus, not caring about his surroundings or what dangers they posed. He was so unnaturally trusting that it very nearly unnerved Severus, but Severus was not a man easily unnerved, so he'd stepped back and took in the site.

The robes hadn't been buttons and they'd fallen open at the neck to reveal a bare hint of the pale skin underneath. Reaching forward again, Severus had closed the gap, ignoring the boy's face as it screwed up in distaste. He'd caught the boy's eyes and held them, a trick he'd learned his first year of teaching. "Do not move. Do not touch anything."

The boy had nodded and there hadn't anything to indicate that he had been intimidated in the least. Stepping away again, Severus had waited to see if he would disobey, waited for him to so much as shift, so Severus could say, 'I told you not to move!' But he'd done none of that. It was like he'd been glued to the spot by Severus' words.

The stand off lasted several minutes, before Severus had finally done something he hadn't in many, many years. He'd given in. Walking over to his fireplace, he had thrown in a pinch of floo powder and said, "Dumbledore's office," before sticking his head in the flames.

Dumbledore had been sitting in the chair at his desk, his face in his hands and Severus had almost felt sorry for interrupting the moment. "Albus."

Dumbledore had looked up, his eyes weary. "Severus, you're back early."

"There's been a... development." Up till then, he hadn't really thought about how he was going to explain it. "I think you should come here."

"Of course, check in with Poppy and I'll be down..."

"I think you should come now."

He had looked back at the boy sitting on his couch, staring at him with too-wide eyes. Oh, good lord, Severus knew that look. It was the look of someone who had never seen a floo before. His stomach twisted at the idea that this might be a muggle child.

When he had looked back, Dumbledore's face was pinched tight, but he nodded. "Step back."

Severus complied, standing and moving back from the fire as Dumbledore had stepped through, landing gracefully onto the hearth rug, his eyes immediately seeking out Severus. "Now, my dear boy, what has happened?"

Sternly, Severus had pointed towards his couch and Dumbeldore had followed the gesture, starting as his eyes came to rest on the boy. "Oh my."

"Oh my, indeed. I found him at the headquarters, in His room. He says he's..."

Severus had faltered and Dumbledore had looked at the boy, who smiled, "I'm Master's Pet."

Dumbledore had nodded calmly and said, "Ah," as if those three words explained everything. Severus had moved to stand next to his door and Dumbledore had followed him, "Severus, explain to me what happened."

So, Severus had, in hushed tones. As he talked, his mind worked through years of the Dark Lord's curious behavior, of rumors he'd never given credence to and he voiced his suspicions. Voldemort had had this boy since they'd taken up the Headquarters fifteen years ago. In fact, the boy may very well have been the reason there had been a Headquarters. When he finished, Dumbledore leaned back and looked at child, his blank expression matching Severus' numbed mind while the boy sat there, and stared back, perfectly happy.

Suddenly, the boy moved and if Severus hadn't trained himself so thoroughly not to react to anything, he might have jumped. Sitting up straighter, the boy stretched his arms over his head and the cloak fell back behind his shoulders, revealing his bare chest and long legs. Severus rushed forward, pulled the arms down and he began buttoning the robe while Albus adjusted from the shock that Severus had experienced the first time he'd seen the boy's attire. Stopping at the fourth button down, Severus met the boy's gaze, hoping he could find a way to explain that exposing himself like that was not appropriate, but instead he found himself facing someone long dead.

With the black cloak buttoned at the neck line and hiding the shocking body underneath it was much easier to concentrate on the face. It was the same face that had haunted Severus for years. The face of James Potter.

_-tbc-_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter ****Two**

"It can not be him. He's dead."

Albus sighed heavily and laid his hands on his desk, "I am not suggesting that this is James, Severus. I am telling you that it is his son, Harry. There is little other explanation for him to look so much like James, for him to have Lilly's eyes, and be the same age that Harry would be."

Severus felt his eye twitch and lowered his head into his hands. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. "There has to be some other explanation, Albus. He has no memory of them."

"I'd be suspicious if he did. He wasn't even a year old when they died, Severus. There are other indicators, dear boy, magical ones."

"What magical indicators? I didn't sense any magic from the boy. Perhaps this is simply some fluke of genetics and he's nothing more than an unlucky muggle."

"Severus, I am becoming concerned that this is so hard for you to accept." Severus said nothing. "The collar is a magic prohibitor. According to Harry, he has worn it since he was five. I'll assume that his magic manifested itself in some way at that time and Voldemort felt the need to take precautions. A wise move. The boy is very powerful, no doubt Voldemort sensed that as well."

There was a long moment of silence and Severus didn't look up. Shame was something Severus had grown accustom to many years ago, long before he joined the Dark Side. Failure, however, was something else entirely. It may have taken him fifteen years to lead the Order to the Dark Lord's headquarters, but he had done it.

There weren't a great many things Severus had failed in his life, but never getting the chance to repay James Potter the life debt he owed him, had always been at the top of that list. To think that he had not only failed the father, but the son as well? There had been so many clues, but he'd overlooked them all, convinced that it was nothing more than gossip between bored minions.

'_Lucius seems to approve of whatever she's doing up there.'_

'_I heard she takes Draco with her. Other day, Avery was going by, heard her telling him to support his head.'_

'_You think she's teaching him how to hold Draco?'_

'_Maybe they got bored.'_

'_Maybe Avery's pulling your strings.'_

It had only been a week after the Potter family deaths, Severus knew Harry's body had never been found, but it was always assumed that the curse itself had simply obliterated the infant. If Severus had paid more attention, it would have been obvious.

'_Did you see the stains on his robes last night?'_

'_Looked kind of orange, like mushed carrots or something.'_

'_Mushed carrots? Have you lost what little mind you possess. What could the Dark Lord possibly be doing with mushed carrots?'_

'_Maybe Narcissa's letting him feed Draco.'_

'_Maybe he spilled a potion on him and the result is the color and consistency of mushed carrots. I can name five off hand that would do just that, three of which would by of value to Voldemort.'_

For everything everyone had said, he always came up with another reason, because it hadn't made sense. He'd been so angry with himself for failing James that he hadn't seen what was right in front of him and that was not something that happened often to Severus. In fact, he'd go so far as to say that he could count the number of times on one hand.

Gripping his hair tighter, he sighed in defeat. The boy was Harry, he had to be, and Severus had failed, yet again. "I should have known. I should have done... something."

Albus stood and moved around the desk, putting a hand on Severus' shoulder, "My dear boy, Voldemort stopped trusting you the moment he realized the Potters were expecting his attack. Now, I suggest you stop brooding over what you haven't done and start considering what you can do. There's a fifteen-year-old boy in your quarters and I dare say he looked... curious when we left him."

*

*

*

Harry, because that was what the old man had called him, was indeed curious. When the other two had left, the tall skinny one who had seemed so upset all of a sudden glaring daggers at Harry, Harry had tried to stay on the sofa. He really had, but without them there, there wasn't anything interesting to look at.

At first, he had tried looking around without moving. He'd shifted around and surveyed the stone walls and the dark furniture. Two stiff, ancient looking chairs sat facing the sofa, to the right was a large fireplace, to the left was a closed door. Master had been very strict that closed doors were off limits. Turning completely, he looked over the back of the sofa at the large, wooden desk with a wooden chair and the overladen bookcase next to it, overflowing with volumes. There were no windows.

Sitting back down, he stared at the closed doorway the two men had exited through, but it didn't move. He couldn't hear footsteps behind it. Shifting around again, he bit his lower lip as he contemplated the desk. There was paper on it and a scale, balanced with something green and leafy on it.

Slowly, Harry stood. He waited for some sign that he'd been caught, but there was no buzzer and no house elf. He took two steps away from the couch and still nothing happened. He was rocking on the balls of his feet. After a moment, when his activity continued to go without notice, a smile spread across Harry's face.

Removing the cloak from around his shoulders, he threw it over the arm of the sofa, sighing in relief. Master had cloaks hanging around his room and occasionally, Harry had gotten curious enough to try them on, but they were all itchy and heavy and uncomfortable and this one was no different.

With another quick glance around the room, Harry made for the desk. The papers were in various handwritings, some with red marks on them, some without. There was a large bottle of red ink sitting on the edge, and a much smaller bottle of black. Harry sat on the desk chair experimentally. It was too stiff and hard. He leaned against the wooden back, trying to imagine sitting there for hours, but his tail bone was already hurting and it had only been a few minutes.

Getting up, Harry moved to the bookcase, surveying the titles for anything that looked like it might be interesting; or at least had pictures. Technically speaking, Harry wasn't supposed to be able to read. Master got upset when he caught Harry even looking at the pictures. Not that he'd ever been hurt for it, but he'd had to sit through hour long lectures about the outside world tainting him.

'Ancient Celtic Rituals of the Northeast Druids.' Hm, Celtic books had some of the best pictures. Pulling it down, he flipped through it, pleased to see that it was filled with black and white sketches.

Faint footsteps caught his attention and he quickly went back to the sofa, shoving the book under it and sitting down, crossing his legs and positioning himself exactly as he had been before he'd gotten up. The door swung open and Harry caught a brief glance of the painting on the other side. It looked like an old man sitting in a green chair, reading a book. For a second, Harry thought he saw the picture move, but then it closed again and Harry knew he must have imagined it.

Severus stopped short, his hand still on the knob. Harry saw Severus' eye brows synch together and his upper lip twitch. For a minute, he thought maybe there had been some kind of spell set up to let Severus know that Harry had disobeyed, but then he realized that a spell wouldn't have been necessary. He'd forgotten about the cloak.

Severus' hand moved up to pinch his nose before he stepped past the sofa and opened the closed door. Harry craned his neck, trying to see through the opening. The footboard of a large bed was just visible, made with the same thick, dark wood as the desk and chair.

After a moment, Severus returned, holding something white in his hands. "Put this on."

The white something was tossed at him and Harry caught it. It was... a shirt. A long sleeved shirt with dull silver buttons running down the front. Harry tried giving Severus his best 'please don't make me' look, usually reserved for when Voldemort wanted him to eat squash. Severus countered with a raised eyebrow and by crossing his arms over his chest, one foot tapping on the floor.

With a sigh of his own, Harry pulled shirt on, cringing as the harsh fabric scratched against his skin. "Why do I have to wear this?"

Severus sat in one of the chairs across from Harry, resting his elbows on his knees, sizing up the boy across from him. He wasn't equipped to deal with this. Albus was equipped to deal with this. McGonnagal was equipped to deal with this. Hell, even Hagrid would have been better than him.

"You have to wear clothing, Harry. Wearing nothing is... inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" Harry licked his lower lip, his hands twisting around each other, "Interrupting Master while he's talking is inappropriate. Having a temper tantrum in front of Master's guests is inappropriate. Forgetting my table manners is inappropriate. I know what inappropriate is and it has nothing to do with my clothes. Why is wearing nothing inappropriate?"

"It..." Assuming that his suspicions were correct, Harry had been with Voldemort since infancy. How was he supposed to explain that clothes were a part of society to someone who had never known society? "It just is. Keep that on. It's too big, but we'll get you something that fits later."

Harry picked at the sleeve of the shirt. "When..." His voice faltered, but he didn't need to hear the rest.

"You'll be staying here from now on."

Severus was surprised when Harry's gaze lifted to meet his. "Until Master comes to get me."

There was no hostility in his voice, no recrimination. It was a statement of fact, pure and simple. It was the same voice he'd used when he'd proclaimed he was a pet. "Harry, you'll be staying here with me. You aren't my pet..."

"Of course, I'm not. I'm Master's Pet."

That word, Master, made Severus feel cold. "No, Harry, you're not anyone's pet. Do you know what Hogwarts is?"

"Yes. Master says that it's a place full of people that don't like him. He says it's dangerous." Harry's eyes shifted to the hem of the shirt, then back up to meet Severus' gaze. "That's where we are, right? You said so when we were outside. You said this was Hogwarts."

Severus had expected perhaps one of two reactions from Harry, the least likely of which was gratitude for having been freed from the clutches of the man who held him as a slave. Having been raised in captivity, Severus thought the odds were more favorable that Harry would be fiercely loyal and demand to be taken back, infuriated by the very idea that he was someplace that opposed his master. What he had not expected was this - complacent acceptance of the situation - and somehow, that infuriated him more than anything else.

"You do realize that I brought you here against his wishes."

Harry scoffed softly and shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm his pet, he takes care of me and he'll come for me eventually. I don't mind staying here until he does."

"He doesn't know you're here."

"He'll find me."

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

"I'm a spy, a traitor to his cause."

"So?"

"I'll tell him you're died."

"He won't believe you."

Severus could feel his temper getting the better of him. "You trust me to take care of you?"

Another shrug. "I don't have any reason not to."

"I took you away from him. I'm keeping you here against your will, against his."

"You haven't hurt me. In fact, I think you're very nice."

"I am not nice."

The boy's face broke out into a smile. "Yes, you are."

"No, I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Insufferable brat!"

Harry didn't flinch at the outburst and Severus stood up. He'd been trying to get a reaction, some kind of anger or upset, but all he'd succeeded in doing was riling himself up.

Severus attempted to stare him down, but Harry didn't avert his eyes. Finally, Severus felt himself cave. It had been a very long night and as much as he may wish it otherwise, it wasn't over with yet. Already, Voldemort and Lucius would be speculating about his failure to apparate to Malfoy Manor and eventually, Voldemort would call him and he'd have to answer.

"We'll finish this discussion later."

"I know he'll come." The strength of his conviction was in his steady gaze, his refusal to look away from Severus. "Even if it takes years, I know he will. I'm his pet."

There was that word again. Severus closed his eyes, willing himself not to be perturbed by the statement. He couldn't expect miracles. If this boy had spent fourteen years being told he was a pet, Severus could not think that one hour and a short conversation would convince him otherwise.

For now, though, sleep was a necessity. Severus needed to get as much of it as he could before he was called and, he suspected Harry did as well. As if to confirm this thought, the boy stifled a yawn.

"It's time for bed."

Harry stood up with youthful agility, unwinding his limbs and stretching so that the bottoms of his leather shorts peaked out from under his oversized shirt. He didn't say anything as he followed Severus into the room, but once there, the boy stopped, still standing in the doorway. Looking back, Severus saw the wide green eyes looking around, moving too fast to be taking anything in.

Before he could ask, Harry looked back at him, "Where's my bed?"

Severus gestured to his own king sized monstrosity. "You'll sleep in mine for tonight, I'll take the couch."

"But..." Harry's hands were clenched around the ends of the sleeves again, the left one worrying a lose string.

"But, what?" Severus prompted.

"When Master isn't there, I sleep in my cage."

Oh, bugger, he'd forgotten about the cage. His mind immediately called up an image of the large object that had sat at the end of Voldemort's bed, it's silver bars gleaming in the dim light of the room. It had been just big enough that Harry could have sat straight upright in it and wide enough that he could have stretched out his legs. Severus' imagination put an image of Harry there, sitting cross legged as he had on the couch, his back straight.

Shaking the image from his head, Severus pulled back the quilt and pointed firmly at the bed. "Get in bed."

To his relief, Harry did. Without another word, the boy pulled himself onto the bed and laid down, tucking his legs under the bedding. Harry watched closely as Severus sorted the quilt out on top of him and left the room, pausing to glance back before turning the lights off and leaving the door cracked open.

If there was one thing Harry was good at, it was waiting. He'd been doing it for as long as he could remember, so it wasn't very hard at all to lay snuggled into the bed, listening to the sounds of Severus moving around in the other room. The wooden chair scratched against the stone as it was moved, then footsteps clumped across the floor, before he heard Severus sit down on the couch.

Harry looked at the clock in the corner and watched the minutes tick by. At first, Severus mumbled to himself and seemed restless, shifting against the fabric and sighing deeply. Then the room went quiet.

Just to be sure, Harry waited an extra five minutes before sitting up. Just like with the sofa, nothing happened. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and pushed himself off, landing on the floor with a soft thud of his bare feet against the thin rug. Creeping forward, Harry peeked through the open door.

Severus was laying on the couch. His cloak had been removed and left on the desk chair, but his shoes and the rest of his clothes were still on. Harry thought about it for a moment, he considered going back to the bed, but he'd never slept on something so large alone. Usually, if Master wasn't there, he spent the night in his cage, comforted by the close walls and security it provided.

Finally, Harry made up his mind and slipped through the door, tiptoeing across the floor until he was next to the couch. A large rug was laid out on the floor between the couch and chairs and Harry sat down it, looking up at the sleeping figure of the man that had taken him from his Master's room.

He was a Death Eater, but he also said he was a spy. Harry knew what spy meant, he'd heard Master ranting about them. They were bad, they threw kinks in Master's plans and their mere presence among his ranks aggravated Master to the point that he sometimes stayed up all night. Only, Severus didn't seem like a bad man. Of course, Harry hadn't met a great deal of people, but he imagined that someone who was bad would have hurt him by now. He remembered the way Voldemort had said the name Albus Dumbledore, his voice dripping in disdain and loathing. The other man, the one with the great white beard, had been Dumbledore, Harry knew that, what he didn't know, was why Master would hate him so much, because he hadn't seemed all that bad, either.

Maybe they would be. Maybe if he just waited, they'd do something and he'd see that Master had been right about them.

With a large yawn, Harry shucked the shirt, folding it up under his head and laid out on the floor, eyes closed.

Maybe.

*

*

*

The familiar burning sensation coursing up his arm woke Severus from a strange dream involving a Sagittarius, Professor Flitwick, and a stool. For a minute, Severus laid on the couch, willing himself to forget it, but he never could forget the ones he wanted to.

A few deep, seething breathes and the pain subsided to a dull throb. Sitting up, he swung his feet around... and put them on top of a warm body lying next on the floor next to him. What the bloody hell? He looked down and found himself staring at Harry, the shirt Severus had told him to wear, removed and bunched in a poor excuse for a pillow.

Harry's eyes opened groggily and Severus had to nearly bite his tongue to keep from reacting to those vivid green eyes, glassed over with sleep. For a second, Harry stared up at him, confused, then he seemed to nod to himself, remembering where he was.

Belatedly, Severus remembered to move his feet. As he did so, Harry sat up fully and stretched again, a frown across his face. "He's calling."

Severus' heart skipped a beat and he grabbed the boy's arm, turning it up to look at the underside near the elbow, where he half expected to see the dark mark burned into the ivory skin. He'd thought he would have noticed it by now, it should have been obvious, and he wasn't sure what difference the boy being marked would make, if any, but the thought of it made him feel vaguely sick.

Relief washed over him as he saw nothing but bare skin. "You're not marked." Leaving the question 'how did you know he was calling' unasked, because he half feared it was something he had done that had tipped the boy off.

"Of course not. I would never have something that garish." Harry pulled the buckle on the left wrist cuff, exposing the inside, and a strange glittering, green and silver serpent tattoo coiled around his wrist like a bracelet. "It does much the same as yours. He can use it to call you, or if he uses someone else's, I'll feel it, but it doesn't hurt, just tingles funny, and I'm not suppose to go when it does."

The mark on Severus' arm burned again and he let go of Harry's elbow before he inadvertently tightened his grip. "Stay here, don't go anywhere."

Getting up, Severus grabbed his cloak and walked out the room before Harry could ask where exactly, Severus expected him to go.

_-tbc-_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter ****Three**

Harry had never been so bored. Master always kept things around to amuse him - games that were spelled to play back, quills and paper, or, if he'd gotten really bored and couldn't sleep, there was always the house elf, Tibby. Although, he usually tried not to call on Tibby if he could help it, because she always told on him when he did things Master wouldn't approve of.

Here, in Severus' chambers, there was nothing. The book he'd taken out earlier turned out to be very boring. Even the pictures, while drawn well, had been of mundane things, like the exact width you should cut Mandrake Root to. The text talked a great deal about the importance of virgin sacrifices. Master had said that a sacrifice was when you gave something up in order to gain something, but what was a virgin and why was it so important?

Putting the book back under the couch, Harry got up and went to the desk. There was a small pile of scrolls on the side and he sat down, taking one off the top and opening it. 'The Uses of Wolfsbane.' He only got a few lines in before he gave up trying to decipher the scratchy handwriting. The second one was readable, but even more boring and dry than the Celtic book of rituals. The third was better written, but grossly inaccurate. Harry had read a book once called 'Misnomers of Wolfsbane' and he thought maybe this author could have used a copy. He hoped that they weren't planning on taking any trips to the Appalachian Mountains, because Wolfsbane was more likely to antagonize a Hippogriff, than ward one off.

Flopping bonelessly on the couch, Harry stared at the ceiling, absently tracing a pattern on his stomach with his finger nail. Master had insisted he keep his nails trimmed and well manicured. Actually, they had been getting a little long. He pushed a little harder against his skin and was rewarded with a white line that quickly turned red.

Tilting his head back, he eyed a tall cabinet by the fireplace that was filled with vials. Sitting up, he scooted to the end of the sofa and continued to stare at them thoughtfully. The wards were so strong, he could literally feel them coming off the cabinet, but that didn't bother him. Master had plenty of things that were warded to keep him out and Harry had long ago grown accustomed to the oppressive presence.

The one in the front was a minty green, but it changed to a metallic purple when he moved his head to either side. Another was lilac and there were three thick, pink potions that looked interesting. He made a quick catalogue in his head of the ones he recognized - ten pepper-up, an entire shelf of healing potions, a row of something Harry thought was pain killer, but as he hadn't had much experience with them, he couldn't be sure.

The cabinet lost interest after a while, because even if the wards hadn't been there, he wasn't planning on actually drinking any of them, no matter how curious he got. Master had had a much smaller potion cabinet in his room and when he was younger, Harry had taken great delight in breaking into it and drinking contents at random, just to see what it would do. The last time he'd done that had been three years ago. When Master had insisted he stay as a girl until it wore itself off - and it took weeks - Harry had vowed never to do that again. There had also been the time he'd lost his voice for two months. Or the time he'd been five, bored, and 'pepper-up,' had sounded like fun. Come to think of it, there were very few times when drinking random potions had yielded him anything other than trouble.

Laying back down, Harry held his arms out and looked at the thick cuffs on his wrists, before dropping his hand to his throat and running fingers over the collar. They had been gifts, marks of Master's ownership of him and they comforted him when Master was away.

Harry's eyes had just begun to drift shut when the door to the room slammed open loudly, startling him. He stood in time to see the man Dumbledore come into the room, followed by two women supporting Severus between them. It wasn't an uncommon site, really. There had been more than one occasion when Master had come back from battle in such a state, but that did nothing to stave off Harry's curiosity.

He followed them into the bedroom, watching from the doorway as the women laid Severus down. The taller of the two, a woman with grey hair pulled back in a tight bun and a stern face, stepped back, while the other crowded over Severus, pulling back his robes, to expose the wounds.

Albus had faith that Poppy could do her job well enough without him looking over her shoulder, so instead, he watched boy. It was remarkable to think that this boy was really Harry Potter. Of course, it would have been remarkable had it been anyone that Severus brought back, even a nameless muggle child. The thought that this boy had been with the Dark Lord since he was barely old enough to walk, was staggering. Especially when one actually looked at him.

A pained grunt from the bed drew Albus attention and he saw Poppy pulling Severus's shirt off a bloodied wound on his arm.

From the corner of his eyes, Harry gripped the doorframe tighter, his head tilted in concern. "What happened?"

The question took Albus a little off guard, but apparently, was just the distraction Severus needed. "I had a picnic."

Albus could very literally see Harry's mind trying to work out how a picnic could result in these injuries. Fighting back a smile, he clarified, "Voldemort punished him, Harry."

"Why?"

"For not taking you back."

Albus tried to lay a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off and went to the side of the bed opposite Poppy. "Why didn't you take me back if he was going to punish you?" He sounded neither angry, nor annoyed, he didn't seem to care that he'd been taken away, just curious as to what Severus had been thinking.

Severus pain-filled gaze landed on Harry for a moment and his voice dropped into a tone that Albus hardly recognized. "Because no one should have to live as a pet." There was, perhaps, nothing significant in the words themselves, but Albus recognized the statement for what it was. Atonement. Severus would have gladly died tonight, if that was the cost for freeing Harry.

However, Harry, did not hear, nor understand that. Leaning forward over the edge of the bed, he wrinkled his nose in confusion. "But I already am."

Albus saw Severus' jaw tighten in anger and moved quickly, taking Harry by the shoulders and leading him out of the room. "Come along, Harry. Severus needs his rest."

Harry didn't protest as Albus shut the door behind him, leaving Poppy to her work. He didn't miss the questioning glance that Minerva threw him. He would explain this to her later, when they were alone and he didn't have a bewildered teenager standing next to the couch, staring openly at him with unasked questions playing across his face.

"Have a seat."

"Why didn't he take me back, Mister Dumbledore? If he was going to be punished like that, why didn't he just give me back to Master?"

Or perhaps 'unasked' wasn't the right word; hesitant, then, which was perhaps better and worse at the same time. Better, because Albus didn't want to have to guess at what Harry was thinking. He was good at guessing and he rarely misjudged situations or people, but as he'd often said, those who make few mistakes, were destined to make the largest ones. Worse, because it meant that caution was one more skill Harry would have to learn.

"Have a seat and I'll answer any question it is within my power to do so."

Harry sat and Albus leaned down, cursing his old back as he picked up the shirt laying on the floor, handing it to the boy. "Now, why don't we start with, my name is Professor Dumbledore."

Harry gave the shirt a sour frown, but pulled it on over his head. "Professor Dumbledore."

"Also, there's the matter of you calling Voldemort 'Master.'"

"What's wrong with that?"

"It bothers some people. You'll have to start referring to him as Voldemort."

Harry shook his head frantically, remembering the one time he'd tried the name out after he'd heard Malfoy say it. Master hadn't hurt him, but the anger and disappointment had been enough to convince him not to do it again. "I can't. Master forbids it."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and smiled soothingly. "Then, how about Tom?"

"Tom?"

"That is his name, Harry. Will you be able to remember that?"

Harry nodded, "Why didn't he take me back to _Tom_?"

Apparently, persistence was one thing Harry had in abundance. "Severus believes that what was done to you was wrong and one day, Harry, you will understand why."

Harry bit his lip, "Master raised me. He's nice to me, and he takes care of me. I'm never hungry, seldom bored, I get gifts. I'm happy. So what does it matter that I'm his pet? Why does that bother Mister Severus?"

"He owed your father a great deal, Harry, and he never managed to repay him. With your father dead, he owed that debt to you."

"I..." Harry hesitated, "I had a father?"

"Yes, he and your mother died trying to protect you from Voldemort. They were both very good, people, Harry, and they loved you very much."

Harry lifted his legs up, resting his chin on his knees. "What were their names?"

"Lilly and James Potter."

Dumbledore was smiling, his eyes were twinkling, but there was something sad behind them. "Potter. So that would make me... Harry Potter?"

The door to Severus' room opened and the taller of the women stepped out. She crossed her arms over each other, "Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded to her and stood up, taking a blanket from the side arm of the sofa. "I'll be there in a moment." She nodded and turned around, going back into the room.

Wrapping the blanket around Harry's shoulders, Dumbledore put a hand on the boy's head, "Lay down and get some sleep. We'll talk more later."

Harry nodded and watched Dumbledore disappeared through the door. Potter. His name was Harry Potter.

*

*

*

Severus crawled his way back into consciousness, instantly aware that something was wrong. The right half of his body was warmer than the left and too heavy to move. He fought a groan. It wouldn't be the first time Voldemort had held him under the Cruciatus long enough to do temporary nerve damage. At least it wasn't as bad as last time. Last time he'd been cold all over and mostly numb. Currently, he could feel every ache and pain in his extremities and they were considerable.

Thankfully, it was a weekend. With any luck he'd be up and moving by Monday, he'd just have to pass his detentions to someone else. Hm, McGonagall would give them lines, Flitwick would make them clean and sort his bins. It would have to be Filch, then, he didn't trust anyone else to make the little brats suffer properly.

He'd have to send a message to Poppy, as well. Visible injuries would have been easily treated the night before, but with the Cruciatus it was always better to wait a few hours and see what the lingering affects were. However, in order to message Poppy, he would need his wand and to get that, he would have to open his eyes.

Reluctantly, he forced them open... and found himself staring at a tangled mess of dark hair. For a moment, Severus very nearly panicked. The last time he'd woken up with someone in his bed... well, he didn't like to think about the last time. Although, at least last time he'd had the common sense not to bring them back to his own room. Wait a moment. Severus looked around, reassured to find that this was, indeed, his own room.

The body next to him shifted and groaned softly as his head lifted up and the eyes opened. Severus was assaulted by the brightest green eyes he'd ever seen. Well, that wasn't strictly true, he'd known someone else with eyes like that, someone who'd died a long time ago...

His memory suddenly caught up with him and Severus sat up so quickly that he dumped a once-again-shirtless Harry nearly off the bed. He was relieved to find that without Harry there, that side of his body was in the same state of normal post-Cruciatus ache as the other. That meant there most likely wasn't any nerve damage. Vaguely, he wondered if he weren't building up some kind of immunity to it; the only reason he was alive and sane was because he was the only Potions Master among the Death Eater ranks and the only spy Voldemort had in Hogwarts.

Severus was still calculating his pros and cons of his current situation, his brain hindered by the potions Poppy had given him the night before and by the distracting expanse of pale skin, when Harry rolled forward and threw his arms around Severus' waist, "Good morning, Mister Severus!"

Severus scrambled off the edge of the bed, before he remembered that he was a grown man and grown men do not scramble. His feet brushed against cotton and he looked down, seeing the shirt laying on the rug next to him. He picked it up and threw it at the boy. "Put that on and do. not. take. it. off. again."

Harry held it in his hands and pouted. "But, I don't like it." Severus kept his face impassive. "It itches." After a moment, Harry sighed, pulling the shirt back over his head.

To his eternal shame, Severus found that the less skin he was looking at, the clearer his head seemed to be. This was what he got for ten years of self-imposed celibacy; which irked him, because it meant that Sirius Black was right and he hated it when Black was right.

Harry shifted to sit cross legged and Severus found himself noticing that Harry's thighs were just as uniformly creamy white as the rest of him. "We have to find you trousers." Not his, though. Even with a belt, he didn't think his would stay on that slender frame.

He ran through his inventory of students in Slytherin. It would have to be someone with Harry's approximate build, someone with clothing to spare, someone he could trust...

Harry watched as Severus' face lit up and the man pointed a finger at him sternly. "Do not move." Severus started to turn away and walk out the door, but stopped after only two steps and turned round again, his eyes narrowed, "And don't remove any clothing."

Harry smiled up at him innocently, "Yes, Mister Severus."

The eyes narrowed further before Severus turned and stalked out. Harry saw him grab his robe off the desk chair and heard the portrait slam shut behind him.

_-tbc-_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It was common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy wanted his son well-versed in the Dark Arts. Well, it was common knowledge among Slytherins, anyway, and it was also known that Lucius did not allow his son to slack off in that pursuit just because he was away at school. There was plenty that could be learned from books, which was why Draco was sitting against his headboard, a thick volume opened on his lap, reading about the various uses of unicorn blood.

What was not common, however, was someone daring to interrupt him. Draco sighed and looked up, glaring at Blaise through his loosely-gelled bangs. "What are you doing here?"

Blaise frowned, "It is my room, too, you know."

"Yes, and I told you stay out of it for the afternoon so that I could finish reading. My father is expecting me to owl him an essay on this chapter by Monday."

Blaise shrugged, "Then go to the library."

Draco lifted his head and raised an eyebrow, "And tell Madame Pince what? This isn't exactly school approved material."

"Hm, well, I only came down to let you know that Professor Snape is upstairs looking for you."

"Let him look. " He purposefully raised his voice so that it would carry up the narrow stairwell and into the common room. If the good Professor was looking for him, he'd have to put off reading, but he might as well irritate Snape while he was at it.

He bit back a grin at the reply that came bellowing down the stairs at him, "Draco Malfoy, I expect you up here in the next two minutes and bring trousers!" There was a pause while Draco and Blaise exchanged confused looks. What did Snape need with Draco's trousers? "And a silk tunic!"

Silk tunic? Well, at least if he were being interrupted, it sounded like it was going to be interesting. He shrugged at Blaise and opened his trunk, rummaging around for the spare clothes he'd brought with him. Not that he got the chance to wear much other than his school uniform, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Stalking up the stairs with his clothes in hand, he heard Blaise following behind him, but ignored him. He'd barely made it past the last step when Snape grabbed his arm and dragged him through the common room without a word. "I can walk on my own, you know!"

Snape didn't say anything, nor did he let go and Draco widened his stride to keep up with the Professor, trying not to stumble. Being dragged was so undignified. "I haven't done anything." It was even true, this time. He'd thought about doing something, but with exams coming up, he just hadn't had the time.

Draco silently chastised himself as he was thrust through Snape's open door. Exams were no excuse for giving the Griffindors a break in his quest to torment them almost daily. He'd have to come up with something and soon. Maybe he could get Pansy to help this time.

Snape motioned to the door leading into his bedroom and Draco bit back a snarky remark as he stepped through the door... and stopped dead in his tracks, unable to form a coherent thought. Sitting on Snape's bed was a boy, probably Draco's age, maybe a year or two younger. He had nearly black hair, cut short and in sleepy disarray, his eyes were a stunning green. It was hard to tell height, but Draco would say they were probably about the same. An overly large shirt swamped the boy's upper body, falling off one shoulder, but Draco could see the thin, pale legs, bent back with feet on either side of his hips.

Oh, my. The snarky remark Draco had been holding back fell from his mouth before he could stop it. "Why, Snape, you kinky bastard. I never knew you had it in you. Although, it looks like I'm out five galleons. I was so sure you were celibate, too."

A hand smacked him upside the head and he turned to face Snape's glower with an incredulously raised upper lip. "What?!"

"Do you have no respect?"

"I have respect for my betters." He dodged the hand aimed at his head again, "Stop that, you'll mess up my hair."

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and motioned to the still silent boy kneeling on the bed. Draco looked between the two of them and, with a belabored sigh, went to the bed and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy."

The boy smiled brightly, but made no attempt to take Draco's hand. "I'm Tom's pet."

Draco's hand faltered, "You what?"

Snape stepped forward, pointing an angry finger at smiling boy, "You will keep that to yourself." Turning back to Draco, Snape pretended to ignore the boy who was laying himself out on his stomach on Snape's bed, crossing his ankles with his feet in the air. "That is Harry. He needs to be... cleaned up and he'll need to borrow your clothes."

Draco's eyes continued to move between the two, noting that while Snape wasn't looking at Harry, his lip twitched when Harry said, "I don't need them. They itch."

Snape's only response was to make none, staring intently at Draco as if he were the room's only other occupant. Harry's shirt had rucked up around his waist when he laid down and Draco not help but stare at the small leather shorts stretched tightly over the boy's arse. Looking back at Snape, Draco forced a frown onto his face, because that was far more dignified than shock. "Why can't you do it?"

"I have things I need to do, Draco, and unless you want me to revoke my offer for apprenticeship, you will do as I say."

Bugger. He had him there. Draco had swallowed what little pride he had and gone to Dumbledore at the beginning of the year, asking for sanctuary, because anyway Draco looked at it, he wanted to live, and something told him that wasn't nearly as likely to happen if he were working for the Dark Lord. Perhaps it had to do with all the nights his father had come home bloody and only half alive, but that was neither here nor there. What was important was that Draco had asked for sanctuary and Dumbledore had given it to him in the form of an apprenticeship to Snape that would keep Draco at Hogwarts with the Professor year round.

Not to say that Draco wasn't grateful and it wasn't even that he didn't like the idea of taking up potions as a profession, it was the idea that he was going to be stuck in this castle for the foreseeable future, chained to a man whose idea of a good time was dicing shrivel figs and harvesting Newt's eyes. Still, it wasn't all bad. He knew Snape was a spy and sometimes it was a laugh to poke fun about it, let things slip that were harmless unless you knew and watch Snape's face twist in anger.

However, fun of tormenting Snape aside, he wasn't willing to risk his tenuous safety. "Fine, I'll clean him up'."

"See that you do and don't let him out of your sights."

Before Draco could get in a last word, Snape turned around and marched out of his chambers, billowy robes and all. Draco huffed, "That is so like him."

He turned around and found himself with his nose less than two inches from Harry's. Harry appeared to be studying him, looking at his features with intense concentration. After a moment, he sat back on his legs and his smile was back, just as bright as before. "You look like Mister Malfoy."

Draco nearly took a step back in surprise, "You know my father? "

Harry nodded happily and Draco furrowed his brows. Where did someone like Lucius Malfoy meet someone like Harry? Oh. He took in the leather shorts and the long legs and the black collar around the throat. He'd been too busy staring at Harry's arse to notice earlier, but there were thick cuffs on his ankles and wrists, as well. Oh, please say his father wasn't visiting underground whore houses or something and having sex with boys Draco's age. Not only was that a mental image Draco could do without, it was low class.

Suddenly, Draco didn't feel the need to push the issue. He started for the bathroom door, opening the door for Harry. "Come on, you'll need a bath."

Harry crawled off the bed and Draco tried not to notice how he moved, like a house cat, stretching his legs off the bed, one after the other and pulling his arms over his head, tilting his chin back. Really, there just wasn't enough fabric to make those shorts decent.

As he relaxed, Harry caught Draco looking away and smiled. He'd never been around other boys his own age. Come to that, he'd never been around anyone his own age, but Harry thought Draco was funny. He talked back to Mister Severus and he kept staring at Harry before turning abruptly away.

The bathroom was bigger than Master's, with large, beige tiles on the floor and walls, and a vanity and sink made of black marble. Silver candle holders were attached to the wall on either side of a large mirror, lighting the room far brighter than it should have been. The bathing tub caught Harry's eye and they went big. It was huge, easily able to fit three people.

Draco reached past Harry and turned the water on. "Go on, get in."

Harry thankfully shucked the shirt and noticed that Draco's eyes, which had been in the process of averting themselves again, locked on Harry's chest, staring. Harry followed the gaze, looking down, but he couldn't see anything wrong. Finally, he looked back up. "What?

Draco shook his head and seemed to tear his gaze from whatever it was he found so interesting. "Nothing."

Shrugging, Harry unbuttoned his shorts and pulled them off, stepping into the water. Draco cut him a glance, "Don't you want take those off?"

"Take what off?" Draco gestured to Harry's wrists and he looked at the leather cuffs, realization coming to him. "They're water proof."

Sinking down into warm water, Harry sat still as it rose around him, almost unnaturally fast. Draco sat on a stool in front of the vanity, still fully clothed. When the water was up to his chest, Draco stood up and turned off the tap, kneeling next to the tub. Harry frowned, "Aren't you getting in?"

"Huh?"

"Well, don't you need a bath?"

For a minute Draco looked offended, then he chuckled. "No, Harry, I don't bathe with other boys." Thank Merlin for separate showers in Slytherin.

Harry opened his mouth to ask why, but Draco put his hand on Harry's head and pushed in under the water. He was let up just as quickly and saw Draco holding a bottle. "I'm assuming you know how to bathe yourself."

Taking the bottle, Harry nodded and thumbed it open. It smelled like lavender. "So, why don't you take bathes with other boys?"

Draco sat back and traced an imaginary pattern in the textured wall with his eyes. "Well, for one, I like boys."

"I like boys, too. I wouldn't mind bathing with you."

He wasn't really sure what he expected to see when he looked over at Harry - maybe a mischievous grin or a seductively raised eyebrow - but there only honestly and a kind of innocence that made Draco feel a little uncomfortable with his stiffened penis. "Not like boy', as in I want to hang out with them. I like boys as in, I get... excited when I see them naked."

That Harry seemed to understand. He perked up and dropped his hands from where they were lathering the soap into his hair. "Do I get you excited?"

Draco just managed to grab Harry and shove him back under the water before Harry could look over the rim of the tub at Draco's crotch. Getting up, Draco handed the sputtering Harry the soap. "Scrub off."

Cleaned up was a vague instruction, but Draco decided that if he was going to do it, he might as well do it right. Despite appearances, Snape was actually very hygienic. In fact, the two hours that Draco had spent with him discussing his apprenticeship, he'd seen him wash his hands five times. It had something to do with not spreading the secretion of one ingredient to the next, but Draco hadn't been paying enough attention to remember exactly what it was Snape had said.

Looking through the drawers, Draco managed to produce a comb, deodorant, and a toothbrush. He'd considered the toothbrush for a while, because there hadn't been a spare, but in the end, he decided that letting Harry use Snape's toothbrush was punishment for making Draco do this in the first place.

By the time he finished, Harry had toweled himself off and was reaching for his shorts. Draco stopped him. "Don't. Wrap the towel around your waist and sit down."

He half expected a fight about that, but Harry was compliant as a house elf, dropping the shorts, tucking the towel around himself and sitting, straight backed and waiting, on the little stool in front of the mirror. Draco ran a comb through the wet, tangled hair, trying to imagine who this was and what he was doing in Snape's quarters.

Even if he hadn't known that Snape was working for Dumbledore, Draco knew that nothing got past the old codger. If Harry was here, Dumbledore both knew and approved of his presence. Either that, or there hadn't been any other option, but Draco doubted that. So, it stood to reason that Harry wasn't here for Snape's sexual gratification - thank Merlin for that as well, because he hated losing, even when he could afford it.

Up until now, Harry had been amiable enough and Draco decided to push his luck. He caught Harry's eye in the mirror. "What's with the domination gear?"

"The what?"

"The cuffs and the collar."

"Oh." Harry held his wrists up and smiled fondly down at the leather. "They were a present, from Ma... from Tom."

Draco heard the falter in Harry's words, but decided against pointing it out. He'd bring it up later when Harry wasn't naked and Draco wasn't trying to pretend he wasn't aroused by it. "Someone gave you a collar?"

Harry practically beamed as he nodded, but didn't say anything further.

"Isn't it... uncomfortable?"

Harry shrugged, still running his fingers over the leather band around his neck. "No. It feels odd when I take them off, though. Like I'm exposed."

Draco gave up trying to get the hair to stay down and handed Harry the tooth brush, stepping back. "Go ahead, I'll be in the other room." Watching someone bathe was one thing, watching them spit was another and, despite Snape's admonition to not let Harry out his sight, Draco was not going to sit around watch Harry brush his teeth.

He'd retrieved his clothes from the living room and laid them out on the bed. Draco wasn't sure what to make of Harry. Perhaps Harry was mentally slow, or something. Like he'd been tortured by Death Eaters until he'd gone insane. It would explain why he was here and why Snape didn't want Draco letting him out of his sight and where Harry knew his father from, but Harry didn't act like the victim of torture. Draco had seen people who went through that kind of thing and they were usually skittish around people, constantly nervous. For all that he was odd, Harry was perfectly at ease with Draco and his surroundings.

"Are those for me?" Draco looked up to see Harry pointing at the clothes on the bed and nodded numbly, trying not to notice the undefined musculature of Harry's chest, or the way his damp hair fell just over his lashes. "Do I have to?"

Definitely mentally slow, which should have made Draco's arousal seem somehow wrong, but Draco was too busy wondering why anyone would pout over having to wear clothes. "Yes."

Harry's shoulders slumped, but the picked up the trousers, preparing to pull them on. Draco stopped him, "Wait, where's your... pants?"

"Pants?"

"You know, underwear." Harry shook his head and for a moment, Draco shook his back before the meaning settled in. "You don't have any."

It wasn't a question, but Harry shook his head again, anyway. There were only three options here. He could go back to Slytherin and get a pair of his own, he could give Harry a pair of Snape's to wear, or, he could let Harry go without. As much as he'd figured stepping out of the room was okay, he didn't think leaving Harry along in Snape's quarters while he went to fetch something from Slytherin was going to please Snape. The third option was appealing, but the second would piss Snape at least as much as the toothbrush thing.

Ever since he'd found out Snape was a spy, Draco had taken great delight in pissing Snape off, because no matter what Draco did or said, Snape had to continue to treat him like his favorite student when others were around and a vast majority of the time, there were others around. So, it was amusing to watch Snape smile tightly at him and tell him what a good job he was doing when they both knew very well that Snape had seen Draco put the firecracker in Weasley's cauldron.

It was stupid, perhaps. Draco, more than anyone in Slytherin, knew how dangerous an angery Severus Snape was. He'd grown up with the man visit his home at least once a month, usually more. So, in an effort not to get himself killed, he usually went to great pains to make sure he was not there when Snape found out he'd done something, or if he was, that he was with someone Snape had to keep up appearances in front of.

Draco wasn't sure if Harry fell into that category, though he doubted it. Still, it wasn't like Snape was going to be checking Harry's underpants. Finally coming to a decision, he went to Snape's dresser and opened the top drawer. Oh, it would figure, every pair were black and they were folded in rectangles of exactly the same size and spaced apart exactly the same width.

Pulling out some, he held them out to Harry. "Put these one first."

Harry didn't argue further, though the distaste was clear enough as he dragged them on, followed by the trousers and then the silk shirt. It took Draco several minutes to convince Harry to take off the ankle cuffs, but attempts to remove the ones on his wrists or the collar were met with firm resistance. Still, it was an improvement. Even with the bare feet, Harry would have looked almost regal if he had just stopped fidgeting.

Snape still hadn't returned and Draco decided that, in light of do not let him out of your sights,' he'd better stay until he returned.

Harry followed Draco into the other room and positioned himself on the floor next to the sofa when Draco sat down with a book. Master only ever let Mister Malfoy, Lady Narcissa, Lady Lestrange, Mister Lestrange, and Mister Pettigrew in. Well, not so much Mister Pettigrew anymore. He'd had Tibby to play with, but she'd always come and gone frequently, becaue she had to take care of the rest of the house. Harry supposed it must be a big house, because it took her a lot of time. Although, he figured that Hogwarts must be larger, because Severus had two full rooms and a giant bathroom, just for himself. Master had only had the one room for the two of them and even though Severus' was bigger, he preferred Master's bathroom because of the large window that overlooked the backyard.

Harry snuck a glance up at Draco. He'd seen him before, but from that distance he'd never really noticed how much Draco looked like Mister Malfoy. He had noticed how much he acted like him, though. Draco kept distance between himself and the other children, especially those younger than him and he followed close at Mister Malfoy's heals, purposefully matching his father's strides.

He'd always thought Draco looked self-important. Now, watching him up close, he realized Draco just looked bored. While Mister Malfoy had always had a stern, contemplative expression, like he was thinking about something very important; Draco just looked like he was trying to look like that. Right now, for instance, by all appearances he was reading a book, but Harry hadn't seen his eyes move the entire time.

"Draco, I'm bored."

"Good for you." Draco didn't look up, just flipping the page and raised an eyebrow at whatever it was he saw. Harry tried to look, but Draco closed the book over his finger and gave Harry a stern look, so Harry sat back down.

This was worse than when Master had punished him by locking all his toys away for a week. He fell back onto the floor and stared at the textured ceiling, trying to make out a pattern. There was a goat with an angry scowl, if he looked hard enough. A smile started to creep onto his face. It would figure that Mister Severus would have an angry goat on his ceiling, because Mister Severus appeared to be angry a lot of the time.

Of course, Harry wasn't fooled by it. He'd seen Master get angry at people before, only to later tell Harry that he was merely frustrated and not to concern himself. Harry figured that if Mister Severus really was a spy, then he had a lot to be frustrated about. Closing his eyes, Harry saw Severus' face from last night, his eyes filled with a kind of deep sadness that hurt to look at.

"Why didn't you take me back if he was going to punish you?"

"Because no one should have to live as a pet."

Last night, when Mister Severus had said that, something in Harry's stomach had fluttered. It had felt like he was nervous, but not, and he'd never felt anything like that before. When he'd woken up in the middle of the night, frightened by new surroundings and uncertain of what he was expected to do, he had crawled into bed with Mister Severus, even though it was against the rules, and the fluttering had gotten better.

When he closed his eyes, he could hear Mister Severus' voice saying his name, calling him Harry' and the fluttering came back. It confused him.

He'd read a romance book once. Lady Narcissa had left it there by accident when she had been watching him and he remembered the characters blithering on about love and butterflies and wanting each other so badly it hurt. Harry had thought that was a bit ridiculous. He loved Master, he respected Master, Master kept him safe and cared for, but he didn't get nervous around him, he didn't need to touch him. It was enough to simply have him there.

He'd known Severus less than twenty -our hours and as absurd as it was, he thought maybe he kind of understood what those books were talking about. The fluttering in his stomach was a lot like butterflies.

"Draco?" He didn't wait for a response this time. "Do you like Mister Severus?"

Draco shrugged, turning another page in the book. "I suppose. He's an arse most of the time, but he's never outright mean."

Harry sighed deeply, "No, I mean, like him as in..." How was it Draco had said this earlier? "Does he excite you?"

Draco's body went cold and the book slipped from his fingers, landing in his lap with a rustle of pages that meant he'd lost his place. Not that it mattered, since he hadn't actually been reading it. "Do I, what?"

Harry sat up, his arms behind him, his palms flat against the carpet. "You said that you didn't take baths with other boys because they excite you. Does Mister Severus excite you?"

"Of course not." Draco picked the book back up, trying to gather his thoughts. "He's as old as my father and, besides, he's not my type."

"Type?"

"Yes, type. Everyone has a type. For example, I like boys my own age. Ones that are handsome, or even pretty works. I do not like older men with greasy hair and pallid skin."

"Oh." Harry laid back down, his eyebrow's creased together and his mouth turned down in a frown.

"What do you mean, oh'?"

Harry only shrugged and Draco was about to force an answer from him, because the idea that anyone would think he liked Snape was... well, disturbing at best. Before he could say anything, the door opened and Draco immediately went back to pretending he was reading.

Severus stood in the doorway for several moments, trying to decide why Draco was reading a book on aphrodisiac potions written in ancient Gaelic. He hadn't been aware Draco could read common Gaelic, let alone the older varieties. Then again, knowing Draco, he probably couldn't.

He was about to make a comment about how he hadn't realized Draco needed aphrodisiacs to get women to sleep with him, when Harry sat up and looked over Draco's arm. His eyes lit up and Severus had just enough time to think that couldn't be a good thing, before Harry pointed to something in the book, saying, "I've done that one!"

Draco's gaze went immediately from the book to Harry and then back to the book again, his pale cheeks going pink. Slamming the book shut, Draco tossed it carelessly onto the coffee table, standing up with a pursed smile. "Well, that's my cue. Later, Harry."

Severus wanted to stop Draco, it should have been his natural instinct to grab the boy as he brushed past and demand to know exactly what it was Harry had done, but the thought that Harry had done anything depicted in that book had made his brain momentarily switch off. By the time he managed to gather his thoughts, Draco was long gone and Severus was alone in the room with a boy who looked thoroughly confused as to why everyone would be shocked by his proclamation.

Without a word, Severus backed out and shut the door behind him. He couldn't do this. He had no idea how to proceed from here. He needed help. He needed Albus Dumbledore.

_-tbc-_


	5. Chapter 5

**C**hapter **F**ive

'Talk to the boy, explain things.'

Bloody sage like advice. If that all there was to it, Severus wouldn't have been in Albus' office, asking for help in the first place and if Albus thought it was so bloody easy, he should give it a try.

"You shouldn't point those things out, because it's inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?"

"Yes, it might make someone feel... uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"Not everyone goes around doing whatever it is you've done that's in that book."

"So, I should lie?"

"No, not lie, just not talk about it."

"Isn't that the same as lying?"

"Sometimes. However, there are times when it's better to not say anything."

"Like when?"

"Like when it might hurt someone's feelings."

"Hurt their feelings?"

"Make them feel sad or guilty, or just upset them."

"Did I hurt Draco's feelings?"

"No, I don't doubt you made his day."

"Then why should I have said nothing?"

Harry had the reasoning skills of an eight-year-old and it was maddening. He'd managed to keep his calm for all of thirty minutes, after which he'd decided that he was better off going to bed for another few hours. Especially when his developed an insistent, throbbing behind his eyes. His sleep the night before had been plagued with nightmares, his body was sore and getting worse with every hour.

At least he could be sure there was no nerve damage to repair; it would have shown itself by now in the form of shaking, possibly jerky twitches if it was bad enough. Leaving a bewildered Harry in the living room, he told the boy not to bother him and downed a general healing potion before laying on the bed... and opening his eyes again to a clock reading one hour till dinner.

He didn't even remember going to sleep.

Harry was curled up next to him, in the same manner he had been that morning. Carefully, Severus extracted his person from the boy's clutches and Harry mewled softly, his fists clenching into the warm quilt where Severus had been laying. The boy's trousers were missing, but at least he'd kept the shirt on this time.

Severus went into his living room and glared at the essays stacked beside his desk. Honestly, he didn't know why he bothered assigning them. They were mostly trash and all they did was eat up time he didn't have. With a sigh, he went to his mantle and turned his crystal glass up, half filling it from the canter of aged whiskey that sat next to it.

It wasn't often that Severus drank, he didn't like the way it impaired his senses. With his luck, he would be stone cold drunk and Voldemort would summon him. A sobering potion could fix the physical affects, but the mental ones were a little more difficult to remedy. Sitting at his desk, Severus took a sip and set the glass aside, starting in on the first of them.

Ten papers in, his red ink bottle was half empty, as was the decanter. The clock read, 'Time for Dinner' and his stomach concurred, growling deeply. Severus was accustomed to going days without food, especially after Death Eater meetings. Dealing with Voldemort wasn't the most appetizing of occupations. However, there was a teenage boy in the other room and Severus was well acquainted with the bottomless pits they called stomachs. Boys Harry's age could eat twice their weight five times a day and if memory served, Harry hadn't eaten since he'd gotten there. That was nearly twenty four hours ago.

Harry had shifted on the bed over the last hour, curling himself around Severus' pillow, clutching it to his chest, a half smile on his face. He looked even younger in his sleep and Severus blamed it on the alcohol that his eyes lingered a little too long the pale expanse of bare legs. Draco's shirt was smaller and with Harry curled up the bottom curve of hid arse peaked out from under it.

Scowling, Severus picked up Harry's trousers from the floor and threw at the sleeping form, watching with some satisfaction as Harry groaned and curled tighter around the pillow before relaxing, turning onto his back to look at Severus. His smile widened for a moment before it opened wide in a yawn.

The shirt rucked up as Harry stretched and Severus found himself staring at a pair of familiar, lose fitting black boxers. "Are those mine?"

Harry looked down at the boxers and frowned. "Draco said I had to wear them." He lifted the shirt further, exposing his navel and the soft trail of dark hair leading down to the waist band that sat too low on his hips. "Can I take them off?"

"No!" He really shouldn't have had that whiskey. "Put on your trousers. We're going to dinner."

"Going?" Harry got up from the bed, pulling the trousers on while he hopped after Severus. "Where are we going?"

"Are you ready?"

Harry looked down, buttoning the trousers hastily and stood straight. "Yes."

With a nod, Severus went to the door and opened it, motioning for Harry to go through. Harry only blinked at him, his eyes wide with sudden mistrust. Severus crossed his arms over his chest . "What is it?"

"I can't..." Harry clasped his hands in front of him, tilting head to the ground submissively. "I'm not supposed to go outside."

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"We have to leave the room if you want to eat."

Harry looked back down and shook his head. "Not allowed."

He pinched harder, taking deep, steadying breathes. "What, exactly, are you not allowed to do?"

Harry's fingers were pulling down the shirt sleeve nervously. "I'm not allowed to leave Master's room."

Keep calm. It wasn't the boy's fault. "Haven't you already left Master's room?"

"I guess. Yes?"

"So, then I don't see how you could make it any worse by leaving my quarters."

Harry seemed to consider it, worrying the sleeve. "I don't want to go outside."

It was said with the air of someone who didn't think his opinion mattered, but need to say it anyway. Severus managed to stop the sigh this time. "We are not going outside, Harry. We'll still be in the castle."

Harry's head lifted a little and he looked up at Severus through his bangs. "Really?"

Severus nodded and Harry swallowed thickly. "Promise?" Severus nodded again and Harry finally stepped forward on shaky legs, latching into Severus' arm the moment he was within reach.

The boy visibly trembled as they stepped out of the room, his head jerking back and forth as he glanced up and down the hallway. With slow steps, Severus urged him wordlessly down the hall. It was slowly going, Harry taking baby steps and he was almost considering going back and taking dinner in his quarters, when Harry stopped altogether, his mouth open and his eyes wide, all fear of being 'outside' seemingly gone.

Following his gaze, Severus realized that Harry was staring at the portrait of Lord VonKethra. At one point, he had been a powerful wizard, but his thirst for fame had driven him into the open at a time when sorcerers were often burned at the stake. Burning, VonKethra could have survived, unfortunately, he had the misfortune to be caught without his wand and the crowd that cornered him thought bludgeoning was a more affective means of dispatching one's enemy.

The Lord raised an eyebrow at the bright eyed boy staring so openly a him. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to stare."

"I don't have a mother." Heedless of the man's anger, Harry reached out a hand, giggling in surprise when the leg he had been reaching for jerked out from under his fingers. Harry looked back at Severus. "It moved!"

Apparently, the Dark Lord hadn't had pictures in his suite, or if he had, they hadn't been magic. Severus had taken it for granted that if Harry knew about magic, he knew about everything, but he should have known that wouldn't be the case. "Yes, they do that. Now, come along."

As they passed another portrait, this one of three women having tea, Harry kept one hand firmly latched onto Severus, reaching out with the other. His fingers brushed one of the women's petticoats, smiling as she gave an indignant cry.

"Stop that."

Harry looked up at him, "Why?"

"It's... rude." Thankfully there were no portraits lining the stairs that led from the dungeon into the hallway that would lead to the Great Hall. Stopping outside the doors, Severus moved Harry to stand in front of him and leveled his gaze at the boy. "You will be eating with me at the Head Table. Just walk to the end of the room and I'll show you were to sit. Don't say anything."

Harry gave Severus a dissatisfied pout, mostly because he was annoyed at having been detached from the man. Severus was safe. Turning around reluctantly, Harry pushed open the large, wooden doors and stepped through. His feet stopped of their own accord as his brain faltered, trying to register the sheer number of people in the room. There had to be hundreds of them. Some his age, some older, younger, all of them wearing nearly identical black robes and sitting at four tables stretching the length of the room. The room, the size of which Harry could never have imagined, was nearly as mind boggling as the number of people filling it.

His eyes moved to the ceiling and his body went cold. Dark clouds were moving over the star strewn sky. He loved stars. Sometimes, when Master was asleep he'd sneak into the bathroom and look at them through the window. He'd imagined that if he could just reach through the window, he could touch them.

As eyes began focusing on him, his chest tightened and his throat felt constricted. He saw Draco sitting at the table to the far right, he saw Professor Dumbledore at the head of the room, along with the two women who'd been in Severus' room the other night. However, that information was stuck behind the far more prominent notion that, besides them, he knew no one. Not a single other person out of all those hundreds.

He wanted to say something, anything, maybe that he liked the ceiling, but it had become painfully silent. Holding his breath, Harry stepped back, focused only on returning to the safety of Severus' chambers. He didn't even know if he could find his way back, but he'd rather be wandering the halls, lost, than in this room with all these _people_.

Within two steps he bumped into Severus, and turned around, throwing his arms tightly around the man's waist. The smell of herbs and Severus filled his nostrils, making him feel warm again and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to breath in the scent as he had the night before, to feel protected from the eyes threatening to burn wholes into him with their staring.

Hands grip his shoulders, trying to pry him away, but he tightened his hold. Severus looked down at the messy black hair. The arms around him were making it hard to breath. Looking up at the headmaster he shrugged, trying unsuccessfully to again dislodge the boy.

"What's wrong?" Severus' whisper was barely audible, but the silence in the Great Hall made it sound like a small explosion.

Harry shook his head desperately. Leaning down, Severus managed to pick up two words, repeated over and over in a frantic, whispered mantra, "Too many. Too many." Then, "Please."

Shooting Albus a piercing gaze that meant he'd need to speak with him later, Severus backed them out of the hall, closing the doors behind them.

"Harry, I need you to look at me." The bright green of Harry's eyes were almost entirely covered in black pupil, dilated with fear. "We're going back to my rooms, but you'll have to let me go so I can walk."

With great effort, Harry looked around the hall, relaxing minutely when he saw no one there. He nodded, his chest unpleasantly tight as he unwound his arms and, instead, grabbed Severus' hand, gripping it with both of his. Severus considered arguing that the two of them holding hands was inappropriate, even considering the current circumstances, but Harry was still looking at him with those too-wide eyes and he sighed, giving in.

At least there was no one around to see and, beside, the important matter at hand was getting Harry back to the room. He'd try explaining propriety again later. Much later.

*

*

*

When they got back to the room, Severus had just enough time to get the door closed before Harry wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in the folds of Severus' robes and refused to let go, shaking violently and refusing to speak. After several minutes attempting to pry the boy off him, Severus settled with slowly moving them to the sofa and sitting down. Harry knelt half on the floor, half in Severus' lap, his grip never faltering.

"Harry, you can let go, we're back in my rooms. It's only you and me." The head shook against Severus' leg. Hesitantly, he put a hand on Harry's back and began moving it in circles, as he had seen parents do with distraught children.

It took nearly an hour, but by degrees, the grip relaxed and the shaking stuttered to a stop. Eventually, Severus noticed that Harry's breathing was deep and even. He'd fallen asleep. Pulling out his wand, he levitated Harry into the bedroom and set him on the bed, pulling the quilts up around him.

He couldn't do this. He wasn't equipped to deal with a child like Harry. Come to that, he was hardly equipped to deal with any child. The only reason he had chosen teaching as a profession was because it was the surest way to stay alive. If he hadn't been such an asset to Voldemort as a spy, even his position as Potions Master might not have saved him.

The sound of his door opening alerted him that someone had come in, most likely Albus, checking to make sure that Harry was alright. With a last glance at the peaceful figure, curled into a tight ball on his bed, Severus stepped out of the room and pulled the door mostly shut behind him.

Albus had already taken a seat on the sofa and Severus joined him, falling into the worn fabric with a great sigh. "He's sleeping." Albus nodded and Severus looked over, feeling lost and uncertain, "I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with him, though I gather it had something to do with the number of people in the room. He was saying 'too many' when I took him out."

Again, Albus nodded and Severus waited for the sage like advice that he knew was coming. "I believe that Harry may be suffering from something the muggles call Agoraphobia - a fear of crowds and public places. We know he was kept in a single room the last fourteen years and I highly doubt that he met a great many people in that time. Something as large as the Great Hall must have seemed intimidating, let alone when it's full of students. He'll be fine, given time."

"How?" Severus leveled Albus with his most intimidating glare, even if he knew it would affect nothing, because it was better than expressing how confused he really was. "You know very well that I can not take care of him, Albus. One minute, he's five-years-old, the next, he's a trained whore. It's been twenty-four hours and he's already told Draco Malfoy he's 'Tom's pet' and pointed out something he'd done in a book on aphrodisiacs. He won't keep his clothes on and getting him to sit on the furniture is nearly impossible.

I don't know what to do with him. How am I going to teach class? These rooms are not child-friendly, Albus, there are breakable and dangerous objects all around. With my luck, he'll break the Orb of Almagerah and let lose a swarm of Harpies in the damned castle and I'll not be held culpable for the acts of a fool child, Albus! I am exhausted and this is beyond my capability to handle."

Behind him, Severus heard a sniff. He closed his eyes, refusing to turn around, because, as much as he would never admit it, he was wrong and he knew it. None of this was Harry's fault and it wasn't fair to blame it on him, but Severus was still recovering and he was cranky when he was recovering and this entire situation was trying his patience.

Harry sniffed again and Severus still didn't turn around, even when the boy spoke in a hurt voice, broken with choked back tears. "I'm sorry. I really am, it's just I don't... I don't understand and I don't mean to act like a... like a child and... and I'm sorry."

Severus finally forced himself to turn around, but Harry had already slipped back into the bedroom and he could hear the restrained half-sobs on the other side of the open door. That was not something he would have expected. Of all the things that had happened to Harry in the last twenty-four hours, this was the thing that made him cry?

Albus gave Severus a reproachful raised eyebrow and stood up, placing a hand on Severus' shoulder. "I believe I shall go and have a talk with him."

The comment, 'oh, good luck,' was right on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to rein it in.

Stepping around the door, Albus saw Harry sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, shaking with every held-in sob. With far less difficulty that one might expect for a man his age, Albus sat down next to the crying boy and waited patiently for him to calm down.

It didn't take long. Harry stiffened when Albus sat down, but didn't look up, just took several deep breathes. A few minutes later, Albus saw bright green eyes peak over the side of one arm. "Feeling better?"

Harry shook his head as he lifted it and ran his arm over face, wiping away the tears, even though there were still some threatening to break free. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a problem. There were just... so many people and he was warm and... and safe, like he'd protect me."

Albus smiled, "I'm inclined to agree with you, but don't let any of his students hear you say that."

A shaky smile started to form on Harry's face, but dropped just as quickly. "And I don't mean to say things like... well, like that, I suppose, but I don't even understand what 'like that' means. And I wouldn't break anything if he left me here alone. I'd stay on the couch the entire time if that's what he wanted."

Albus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I've no doubt you would." That earned him another of those shaky smiles. "Harry, Severus doesn't think you're a nuisance."

"But, he said..."

"Yes, I'm aware of what he said. However, I'm also aware that Severus is a man of little patience who sometimes does not know when to keep his mouth closed."

There was a snort from the other room, "Just like some old fools I could name who make it their life's work to stick their nose in other people's affairs."

Albus raised an eyebrow to Harry, who was looking shocked at Severus' outburst. "See what I mean?"

Harry gave a short laugh, almost as if were trying to hold it in and it escaped. "So, he should have done what he told me to do and not say anything, so that he didn't hurt my feelings?"

"Yes, Harry. It looks like our Severus isn't a complete loss as a teacher, after all."

The pleased smile on Harry's face faded to a frown, "So, that means I got my feelings hurt?" When Albus nodded, Harry put his chin down on his knees, "I don't like it. It makes my chest tight and my stomach feel funny and I haven't cried in a long time. I'm good at not crying."

Albus tried very hard not to imagine why Harry would have to be good at that. Unfortunately, with age comes wisdom, even on things we don't wish it. "That, my dear boy, is why it is sometimes better to keep our mouths shut."

Standing up, Albus helped Harry to his feet and put his hand on top of the boy's head, taking a moment to reassure himself that he was really here. Protecting the Potter's had been something that Albus considered his greatest failure, finding Harry safe now was a curse and blessing, but he was far too old to be splitting hairs.

"Severus, I'll be sending a house elf up with dinner."

Harry waited on the other side of the door while Albus left, saying something in a hushed tone to Severus first. It wasn't that no one had ever been mad at him. Of course, Master didn't yell and Mister Malfoy hadn't either, but sometimes Lady Lestrange did. She was the one that found him when he'd gotten bored and turned himself into a girl and she'd spent a good twenty minutes screaming at him.

Somehow, though, what Severus said hurt. Maybe it was that Severus hadn't yelled _at_ him, he'd been yelling _about_ him and to someone else. Like what he had to say was too horrible to say to Harry. Professor Dumbledore said that Severus should have kept his mouth shut, but Harry couldn't get the words out of his head and it was making him feel sick to his stomach.

He was just thinking that it might be better if he just went to bed when he heard an all too familiar popping sound in the next room.

"Mister Snape, sir, Mimi is bringing you dinner."

Severus was about to tell her to put it on the desk, when he was interrupted by a Harry shaped blur as it ran into the room and knelt in front of the house elf, all smiles.

"You're a house elf!" It wasn't so much a question as an excited proclamation

Mimi look up at Harry, her eyes wide and ears perked. House elves tried to stay hidden, but working at Hogwarts meant they were used to the excited attention of muggle born students. "Who be you, young Master?"

Harry shook his head excitedly, "Not master, pet. I'm Tom's pet. Do you know Tibby?"

Mimi's ears lowered and her eyes narrowed. "We is not associated with Tibby, sir, she is working for the Dark One."

Harry's face fell, "Could you, though? Because she'll be worried about me."

Suddenly, it made perfect sense. While Voldemort may have lived in a muggle house, and a muggle town, he had not lived the muggle way, and Severus knew of at least one house elf in Riddle Manor, though he'd never heard mention of a name. Voldemort could not have always been there for a baby or even a small child. There had been battles that lasted two and three days, which meant someone would have had to take care of Harry. Apparently, that someone was a house elf named Tibby.

As he realized that, another idea came to him. Severus took Harry's arms and made him stand and face him. "Harry, she can't tell Tibby where you are."

"But she'll worry about me."

"No. However, if you'd like, Mimi can come and keep you company while I teach." He passed a glance at the house elf, who only nodded. He'd have to clear it with Dumbledore, of course, but that was a mere trifle. This way, he could teach his classes and not worry about what he would be coming back to.

Harry's eyes lit up and a grin split his face. He grabbed Severus around the waist, holding tightly even as the man tried to shove him off. Bidding Mimi goodnight, he then managed, with great difficulty, to dislodge the boy. It was going to be a long week.

_-tbc-_


	6. Chapter 6

**A**uthor: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)**  
P**airing: Harry/Voldemort; Harry/Snape; Harry/Draco; Harry/Lucius  
**R**ating: Mature  
**W**arning: slavery, brainwashing, noncon, shotakon  
**S**ummary: AU; rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued.  
**A**uthor's **N**ote: Sorry it took so long, there were wedding vow renewals to finish planning, a week long vacation to Alaska (see pictures on my website), the finding out of a pregnancy, and many, many other things that got in the way. However, Chapters 6-10 are back from the beta and I can start working on the others soon.

* * *

**C**hapter **S**ix

'Long week' had turned out to be an understatement. According to Albus, Harry was "testing his boundaries, Severus. He's in a new place with new freedoms. Give him time to adjust and I'm sure things will calm down." All said with that damn twinkle in his eyes that told Severus there was no point in arguing.

Albus could call it 'testing his boundaries' all he wanted, Severus called it breaking rules. He also called it throwing a screaming temper tantrum when Harry was told he had to sleep alone on the bed. Severus had tried to be strong. He'd lectured Harry, yelled at him, even locked the bedroom door from the outside, but every morning, he woke up with Harry on the floor next to the sofa. After three days, he gave up. The sofa wasn't nearly as comfortable as his bed and if Harry weren't going to use it, he might as well.

Harry's personality rotated between deplorably innocent and sexually explicit. One minute he was laying on his stomach, tracing the pattern in the rug and humming to himself, the next, he'd be on his back with his shirt bunched up around his chest, dripping hot wax on his abdomen with sharp hisses and a bitten lower lip. Really, there was only so much one man could take.

Thankfully, school was in session five days out of the week, which meant he spent only a minimal amount of time in his rooms. He slipped out before Harry woke, took breakfast in the Great Hall, took lunch there as well, and stayed in his office until an hour before dinner.

Oh, and dinner was another matter entirely and one as equally frustrating. Voldemort had decided in his infinite wisdom that his pet should be vegetarian, though Severus had to admit he was hard pressed to remember a time when he had seen the Dark Lord eat meat. Not that Severus ate dinner with him often, but there had been a few occasions over the course of the last few years.

Despite never having had meat before, Harry's curiosity knew no bounds. Without asking what was on his plate, without hesitation, he ate every single piece of beef with only the slightest indication that he found it strange or distasteful. Twenty minutes later, he was bent over the toilet, heaving up his entire dinner, Severus awkwardly patting his back. Further experiments proved that poultry and fish did not have the same nauseating affect, though, while Harry may not have said anything aloud, the wrinkled nose and tight brows were enough to tell Severus that fish was unappreciated.

The only positive things Severus had to say as the end of the week came and went, was that at least Harry had learned to keep his clothes on and even that had one significant draw back. He suspected the change in Harry's behavior was due to the insight Draco Malfoy, who, on Sunday morning, had shown up with a pair of black leather pants, saying that he thought Harry might like them better. He was right and Severus could only be thankful for it. What he hadn't been thankful for was the way Draco had trailed behind Harry the rest of the day, staring unabashed at the way the tight leather clung to Harry's hips and thighs.

Since then, Draco had taken it upon himself to spend as much time with Harry as possible. The minute class let out, Draco went to Severus' quarters, where he stayed until Severus kicked him out for the night. There had even been two occasions when Severus had not seen Draco at lunch and Mimi had confirmed that he had come by and eaten with Harry. Most likely, the sudden interest in Harry was due to Draco's curiosity over who he was and had little to do with the adolescent masturbatory fantasies that Severus had no doubt Draco was harboring.

Although, in the long run he supposed he shouldn't be complaining. With Draco around, Harry paid less attention to Severus. Like now, for instance.

Severus had been in his quarters for a full hour, planning assignments and making the list of ingredients that would be necessary for each, and Harry had yet to do more than give him the customary hug upon his entering the door before returning to sit on the floor, playing chess while he talked with Draco.

Severus cringed a little as he realized that somehow a good evening hug had become acceptable. Only seven days and he was already losing his edge. He'd have to do something soon or Draco might leak it to the other students that he was becoming soft. A shudder followed the cringe at that thought.

A quick glance at the boys showed that Draco was losing to Harry. He personally would not have taught something like strategy to the boy he was keeping captive, but then, he supposed that hadn't been a problem as Harry hadn't seen it as captivity. In the past week, Severus had purposefully kept his door unlocked, but Harry had yet to so much as touch it. He was perfectly content to stay in the rooms and amuse himself with books and parchment and chess.

They hadn't talked in a while, but Severus was hardly surprised when he heard Malfoy speak up. Peace and quiet were quickly becoming a fond memory. "So, do you fancy him?"

_Him?_ If Draco had brought anotherissue of Playwizard for Harry to look at, Severus was going to give him Saturday detentions for the rest of the month. In fact, make that two, because Harry had been very clingy that night.

Harry's neck turned red and he snuck a glance to the side at Severus. "Maybe."

Definitely a Playwizard. He'd never seen Harry blush at anything else.

"How can it be maybe? Either you do or you don't."

Harry picked at the carpet, the blush creeping over onto his cheeks. "Well, he makes me feel... different. Like, tingly and warm inside. With Tom, it was...

Severus stood up on instinct at the mention of the Dark Lord's name and turned around, glaring at the boys. Harry was at least a little cowed, but Draco only smirked. If by 'him' they meant the Dark Lord, Draco wasn't going to be the only one in trouble. Harry wasn't supposed to be talking about Voldemort. Even though Draco had defected for all intents and purposes, he could still change his mind and with a tidbit of information like where Harry was, he would have all the ammunition he needed.

"Draco, it's almost time for dinner, go to your room before your housemates miss you.

Draco scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "My housemates could give a rat's arse..."

"I said now."

He punctuated the comment by pointing at the door and Draco rolled his eyes, giving Harry an apologetic smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded and Draco left, shutting the door a little too firmly behind him. Harry didn't look in the least upset about this until Severus turned back around to his desk, continuing to revise his list. From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry pout and pull a book out from under the cushions of the sofa, laying down to read it.

Severus had tried to explain that Harry needn't bother hiding what he was reading, but Harry had just shrugged and kept doing it. Severus wondered about that, but couldn't bring himself to ask. He imagined he probably wouldn't like the answer, anyway.

Dinner came and Severus continued to sit at his desk while Harry stayed on the floor, eating at the coffee table, his legs dexterously folded under him so that the leather pants stretched even tighter over his arse and knees.

Harry looked over suddenly, smiling when Severus looked away just as quickly. The first time Harry had worn these pants, Severus had kicked Draco out, mumbling something a "Master Baishon," which he then refused to explain to Harry, no matter how nicely he asked. He'd even tried begging, on his knees and everything, but Severus hadn't caved, though he had looked more than a little uncomfortable.

The implication of the position was not lost on Harry. Mostly, he didn't use it for begging, because Master didn't like it when Harry got too persistent about anything, but he'd been on his knees often enough doing other things. Things Master did like. Things Severus might like, or maybe not, because Severus kept pushing him away.

Severus was one great mystery to Harry. He acted mean and ornery, but really he was just frustrated half the time and other half... well, Harry was pretty it was just part of who he was, nothing personal about it. Draco said that the other kids in the school were terrified of him and that it wasn't uncommon for him to actually make first years cry.

Harry couldn't imagine why. Sure, Severus was abrupt, like when Harry had eaten that stuff called beef and Severus had thrust a damp towel at him when he was finished sicking up, but there was kindness under it - like while Harry had been sick, Severus had knelt next to him and rubbed his back. It had been awkward and Harry had doubt Severus hadn't done it before, but he was trying and that was more than anyone had ever done with Harry. Usually when he was sick, Tibby cleaned up his mess and gave him potions, but no one had ever coddled him before and it was... it was nice. He'd considered doing it again just to see if Severus would comfort him some more.

There were other things. Like how Harry knew that his throwing fits over sleeping alone in the bed really annoyed Severus, but Severus had yet to do more than raise his voice a little and even then it was only half-hearted. Harry had been on the receiving end of enough lectures to know when he was really in trouble. Still, it had been a relief when Severus had caved, because Harry liked the bed, he just wasn't used to sleeping alone on something so large. He could practically swim in all the quilts. With Severus there, he could lay close and feel the comfort of something solid next to him.

Which was how he was right now, his head pillowed on Severus chest, his ear pressed against the scratchy grey cotton of Severus' nightshirt, listening to the man's steady heart beat and letting it lull him to sleep. It was at times like this that he almost didn't miss his old bed.

*

*

*

Saturday morning, Harry woke still curled up around Severus' inert form. He didn't lift his head to see if Severus was awake. Instead, he took the hand that was laying on Severus' stomach and lifted a finger, curling it so he could trace around Severus' navel. A shiver ran through the man's body and Harry continued to trace patterns over the pale skin until Severus pushed his hand away. "What do you think your doing?"

Harry looked up, grinning in what he hoped was a wicked manner, though Master said he'd never been very good at that kind of thing. He said when Harry smiled like that, it reminded Master of all the times he'd caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to. Severus must have felt the same way, because he gave Harry a raised eyebrow.

With a sigh, Harry put his head back down. "You're warm." He breathed deeply. This early in the morning, Severus hadn't taken a shower and he smelled like herbs and sweat. Harry put his hand back on Severus' abdomen and smiled. His stomach clenched pleasantly and he moved his hand lower, his fingers skimming the waistband Severus' underwear through his shirt.

Severus' muscles twitched involuntarily under his head and Harry smiled, wondering what Severus would do if he snaked that hand even lower, if he pressed it over Severus' thickening erection. Before he could act on the thought, Severus practically jumped out of the bed, knocking Harry to the side.

It was disappointing, but not unexpected. While Harry positioned himself on his stomach, consciously feeling his own night shirt riding up his thighs, Severus hastily grabbed his clothes from the wardrobe and pulled them on, forgetting to tuck in his shirt before he pulled on his robe, buttoning it with practiced ease.

Harry liked to watch Severus dress. Underpants, undershirt, over shirt, trousers, belt, ruffled collar, vest, knee socks, boots, robe - there were so many pieces. Sometimes, he wondered how Severus remembered them all, but somehow he always did. Well, usually did. Today he had skipped the vest and the collar, but Harry thought that might have something to do with his teaching. Severus was a professor, which was apparently a very important thing. It certainly required a lot of clothing.

Straightening his robe on his shoulders, Severus glowered down at Harry. "I'm going into Hogsmeade today. You need clothes and... things." His lip curled up at the word 'things' and Harry wondered what they could possibly be. "Take a bath and get dressed, or stay on the bed, it makes no difference to me, but either way, you are to touch nothing. Draco should be down shortly. Behave yourself until he gets there. Have I made myself clear?"

"How can I take a bath and get dressed if I can't touch anything?" Severus' scowl deepened and Harry laughed. "Yes, yes, you've made yourself perfectly clear. Touch nothing. Behave myself."

"Yes." Before Harry could do more that stick his tongue out at Severus' retreating back, the man was gone.

He counted to two hundred after the door had closed, making sure Severus hadn't forgotten anything. Sometimes Master would forget something and come back and one such time Harry had been caught taking a book out from under the cushion of the chair. He'd been sternly reprimanded and left to his own devices for four whole days. It was a punishment that Harry would not soon forget and so he had made it a point to wait a long while before moving, just in case.

Severus didn't seem to mind Harry reading, but it was a habit and Harry didn't see the need to break it, especially since Master would eventually come for him. With a long stretch, Harry let himself roll off the bed, falling into a crouch and then standing up, looking around the room curiously.

After a moment, he went into the living room, skulking up to the glass fronted cabinet that Severus kept his potions in. They were written in Latin and while he understood some of the language, there were quite a few labels that he didn't understand. Most of the time he was alone, he spent sleeping and reading, but sometimes, if he was feeling particularly brave, he tried to translate what the potions meant and then look up their purpose.

Today was the thick, baby blue one on the second shelf from the bottom, the one that read 'ubertas in a vir'. In a vir, meant in a man, but ubertas he had never seen before. Harry pulled the Latin translator from under the sofa cushions and thumbed through, looking for the word.

'Fertility.'

Harry frowned. That didn't help at all. What was fertility? Going to Severus' book shelves, he found the dusty dictionary and looked it up, but it only confused him more. What did it mean to be 'able to produce young, seeds, fruit, pollen, spores, etc?' Why would a man want to produce seeds or fruit? Though, maybe it would be useful if one were starving, or really liked strawberries.

Putting the dictionary back carefully, Harry went to take a shower. He'd ask Draco later. Draco was a wealth of knowledge. He'd explained that 'papilla,' which was Latin for breasts, were the round things that grew from women's chests and that some women liked to have very large ones because men liked that. He'd also told Harry that if asked, Harry should always say that a woman's breasts were big.

The water of the shower beat off his skin and the steam swirled around him. Master had only had a bath tub. The shower was heavenly. He could close his eyes and let the water roll off him, taking the dirt and night's sweat with it, leaving him feeling clean. He'd only discovered it a few days ago, but he was already trying to think of a way to convince Master to put one in the room.

Draco was sitting on the bed, which had been made while he was in the bathroom. Probably by one of the house-elves. Tibby had been very good at popping in the minute Master left the room and getting the chores done quickly and quietly. She said that was what a good house elf did.

It took Harry a moment to realize that Draco was holding Harry's leather shorts in his hand, dangling them suggestively. "Put these one?"

Harry blushed and shook his head, already reaching for the leather trousers that he'd left over the arm of a chair. Sometimes, Draco made him feel nervous, like when he stared at him for a long time or tried to get him to wear something revealing. The nervousness was strange and new and something Harry couldn't explain. Draco said it was because Harry was developing a modicum of moral decency. He also said it like Master said the word 'traitor,' but Severus seemed to think it was a good thing, so Harry didn't try to change it.

With a frustrated sigh, Draco dropped the shorts and watched Harry dress, his eyes so focused that Harry wondered if he was really seeing anything at all.

When Harry had started wearing the leather trousers, he'd taken off his ankle cuffs. They were too much bother, since he had to take them off anyway, just to get the trousers on, but he knew where they were, just in case. The wrist cuffs, however, and the collar were still in place.

Pulling on the silk tunic and tying the laces shut, he followed Draco into the living room. Draco was supposed to be teaching him a game called Exploding Snap and he was a little concerned about playing anything with the word 'exploding' in it, even if Draco assured him it was harmless.

Draco was setting things out on the table, a frown creasing his forehead. He was worried about something, but unless the game was really going to explode, he couldn't imagine what.

"You were..." Harry leaned closer, listening intently to Draco's nearly whispered words. "You were _His_ pet, weren't you?"

Harry bit his lip, confused. "Tom's pet."

"No, _His_ pet." When Harry still only stared blankly, Draco took a deep breath, "Voldemort's."

Harry found himself looking at the floor, unable to explain the tightness in his chest. It shouldn't matter that Draco knew, but somehow, it did. "Yes."

"Oh." Draco picked up one of the pieces and turned it over in his hand, studying it. Harry wasn't sure why it was interested, it looked like every other one on the table. "I can't go home for Christmas."

"What?"

"It;s a holiday. You go home and get presents and spend time with your family, but..." Draco put the piece down, but still didn't look at Harry. "Father said the Dark Lord's looking for a replacement and he's afraid he'll pick me. So, I'm to stay at school until further notice. I suppose, it doesn't matter. I knew this was coming eventually, I just thought I had a few years, you know?"

Harry smiled and ducked his head so he could see Draco's grey eyes. "He won't pick you. You're not what he needs."

Draco huffed, "What he thinks he needs is sex."

"No, that's not right."

"How would you know? You were just his fuck toy."

"I was not his... wait, what's a fuck toy?" It didn't sound nice and it probably wasn't, because Draco flinched, hanging his head further. "I heard him talking to Mister Lestrange once. Tom believes in what he's fighting for, he couldn't have kept it up this long if he didn't, but all the death and pain wears him out. He told Mister Lestrange that he keeps me so he'll have something innocent to come home to, something pure, something that isn't tainted with his hate. That's what he needs. You aren't like that, you try too much to be like your father."

For a second, Draco didn't move and Harry was afraid he might have said something wrong, something that hurt his feelings, but Draco's shoulders began to shake and when Draco finally looked up, he was laughing. After a minute, he got himself under control and Harry watched him carefully, wondering what he was thinking and what had been so funny.

"Hey, Harry, you really fancy Snape, don't you?"

It was Harry's turn to hide his face, stumbling over his words, "I... um... I think so."

"You think so?"

"Yes." Harry looked up, meeting Draco's eyes firmly. "Yes, I do... fancy him." It was strange to say it out loud, it made it more real, but that wasn't bad. In fact, it made him feel light headed and it made his heart race excitedly. He fancied Severus.

One side of Draco's mouth twisted higher than the other and Harry realized that _that_ was what a wicked smile looked like, because he knew the moment he saw it that Draco had something very naughty in mind. "If you want him, you'll need my help. Do you want him?"

Harry nodded without hesitation and Draco leaned closer, "The problem with our dear Professor Snape, is that he's been celibate for far too long. As much as I hate to lose a bet, it would be a shame to let this opportunity go to waste. Besides, maybe if the man gets laid, I'll get an A on my next paper. So, here's what you do..."

_-tbc-_


	7. Chapter 7

**A**uthor: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)**  
P**airing: Harry/Voldemort; Harry/Snape; Harry/Draco; Harry/Lucius  
**R**ating: Mature  
**W**arning: slavery, brainwashing, noncon, shotakon  
**S**ummary: AU; rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued.  
**A**uthor's **N**ote: I got fanart! Go check out my livejournal (username: EskimoSatan) for the link! Also, please remember that this story is Snarry. I know the majority of you reading it already know that, but every now and then I get an email saying that someone doesn't like where it's going. Please take note of the pairings and the warnings. That is where it is going, take it or leave it at your own risk.

* * *

**C**hapter **S**even

Severus was going to kill someone very soon; it had been far too long since he had, anyway. When he'd gone into Hogsmeade he had not anticipated that teenage clothing came in so many styles and sizes. He had also not anticipated the looks that you got when asking where you could purchase leather pants and silk tunics for a boy of about this height, very skinny, small boned. He should have brought Malfoy with him. He then shuddered as he envisioned what, exactly, that would have been like.

_"Professor, you have absolutely no fashion sense."_

_"Professor, when was the last time you even stepped foot in a clothing store?"_

_"Professor, you do realize that clothes come in colors - as in, something other than black and white."_

The worst by far had been when he'd asked the salesclerks what you could get a fifteen-year-old boy to keep him occupied and was laughed at; although, one man did suggest porn, which was probably the most helpful thing he'd heard all day. Not that he was going to actually buy any. At least, not for Harry.

Eventually, he settled on child-appropriate books, so that Harry would have something to read other than potion manuals, a set of colored inks and thicker, bleed-free parchment. He also purchased wizard playing card with a manual on games, six of which were variations of solitaire. With any luck, Harry would actually use these items to amuse himself so that Severus could grade papers in peace and quiet.

As an after thought, he picked up a child rearing volume on useful charms, one of which included making clothes impossible to remove, because while the leather and silk mad it easier, getting the boy to wear undergarments was problematic at best. He'd been tempted by a paddle, but memories of Harry dripping hot wax on himself had Severus doubting whether Harry would actually see that as punishment.

The extent of Voldemort's depravity astounded Severus. He'd always known the man was dark beyond redemption, but what he'd done to Harry? That was simply depraved in a way that Severus had naively assumed not even Voldemort was capable of. Hm, not naive. Perhaps... yes, optimistic was more appropriate, though that in itself was hardly a trait Severus usually assigned to himself.

Although maybe it was more apropos than he thought, because while he hadn't imagined that Harry would be up to anything good when he returned to his rooms, he certainly hadn't been expecting what he did find.

The first thing that Severus noticed was that the lighting in the living room was dimmer than normal. The second abnormality came when Harry did not bowl him over in an awkward, one-sided hug the moment he had shut the door. Then he realized that Harry was actually nowhere in sight and, again, optimistically thought that perhaps the boy had simply laid down for a nap.

Walking softly to the bedroom door, he opened it... and all the blood in his body immediately rushed from his head, heading south and directly where Severus did not want it to go, especially not with a mostly naked teenage boy in his bed. Harry was sitting in a position Severus had seen him use many times, on his knees, his legs bent back with his hands resting, palms open, on his bare knees. He was wearing one of Severus' cotton, button-ups, open half down his chest, sliding off one shoulder. It was just sheer enough that Severus could be certain there was nothing under it.

Harry shifted and Severus' heart skipped a beat as the boy moved to place his hands on the bed and sat up, his arse in the air before slowly lowering himself onto his stomach. He had done that many times over the course of the week. Harry seemed to like laying on his stomach, whether he was going to bed, or just lounging around, but the deliberate movement and the half smile on the boy's face conspired to let Severus know that this had nothing to do with taking a nap. This was an invitation.

"Hi, Severus."

His attention was drawn to the boy's mouth in its quirked, seductive smile. In all the hours that he had watched Harry, he'd never seen anything that hinted at that. Harry had a kind of infectious smile that Severus had to fight hard not to return. This smile reminded him very much of a devious Malfoy, closing in on a conquest.

Actually, that was exactly what it reminded him of. Malfoy. Damnit, the brat had been at it again. He'd been teaching Harry things. Last time he'd done that, Harry had told Severus he thought he had a very big penis. It had taken an hour of round about questioning to find out that Draco had been trying to explain the importance of large breast size for women and had equated it to the way men felt about their penis. That hadn't made it any better, because Harry had been entirely unaware that penis size was important to men, so all he'd come out of the conversation with was that telling someone they had a large penis was a compliment.

Severus made a mental note to add a clause in Malfoy's apprenticeship papers that said he was never to become a teacher. Storming over to the bed, he kept his gaze purposefully fixed on Harry's eyes rather than the pale cheeks of his exposed arse as he pulled the cover up and over them. The object of temptation hidden, he crossed his arms over his chest, "Stop doing whatever it is that you think you are doing."

The seductive smile immediately melted into a familiar pout. "Don't you like it?" Severus pursed his lips and his fists clenched tighter. Harry's lower lip quivered slightly. "Don't you want me?"

Oh, good god, the boy was going to cry. Severus was not prepared for the power that had over him. In all his years as a teacher, making children cry had been an accomplishment, but this was not about the incompetence of a student, or even delinquent behavior. This was about a boy who had not been even remotely intimidated by a single display of authority from Severus becoming upset because he thought he had failed at something that, quite frankly, he hadn't. The little display had worked far too well, the evidence of which was hidden by the voluminous robes Severus had not yet taken off.

Taking a step back, Severus sat in the chair and looked apprehensively at Harry, whose eyes were starting to glisten. "This is not about what I want, Harry. What do you want?"

The lip stopped quivering and the eyes went from soulful and hurt to confused in less than the blink of an eye. "What do _I _want?"

"Yes, Harry, what do you want? It's a very simple question."

Where most of the teenagers he had taught would have been offended by the sarcastic remark, Harry only bit his lip thoughtfully, before answering, "I want you."

"How, exactly, do you know that?" He didn't wait for Harry's response before continuing. "How many people have you slept with?"

Without hesitation, Harry held up two fingers, bowing his head so that his bangs hid his eyes. "Two - Tom and Mister Malfoy. Almost Mister Pettigrew, but Tom walked in on us and I had to wait in the bathroom. There was a lot of screaming." Harry looked up again, his brows drawn together. "He didn't seem very interested after that."

Indeed, little Peter would not have. When Black had caught and killed his former best friend two years ago, they had been surprised at the number of old wounds on him. Scars and marks in themselves were not unusual considering the way Voldemort handled his Death Eaters, but castration was unheard of in the ranks. Many men were willing to risk death and even torture for power, but very few were willing to risk their manhood. According to the post-mortem examination it had happened some years prior, at least more than three.

Thinking of Black - specifically about Black's reaction when he found out Harry was alive - helped him to will away his persistent erection. Severus almost smiled as his thoughts turned to exactly how disappointed the Auror would be when he found out what Pettigrew had tried to do and that Black had not performed the castration himself.

"Severus?"

Pulling himself out of the comforting thoughts, he noticed that Harry had sat up and was once again kneeling on the bed, though his feet were apart and his hands were on the hem of the shirt, holding it down against his legs in an almost self-conscious fashion. Perhaps he was getting through to the boy, after all.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Did you like sleeping with them?"

Harry frowned and shrugged, "Not really. It wasn't bad, not after a while." There was nothing in his tone that said he found anything wrong with this. Harry looked up and met Severus' eyes. "I wanted to please Tom, and I wanted to do what I was told, but I didn't want them, not like I want you."

Severus nodded slowly and stood up, walking over to Harry and looked down at him sternly, "In your entire life, you have slept with two men, both of which are old enough to be your father." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but at Severus' raised eyebrow shut it again. "Before you go deciding that I'm what you want, perhaps you should try being with someone your own age. Perhaps even a girl."

It was a very simply psychosis, really. Severus had rescued Harry and Harry had latched onto him. He saw Severus as his savior and was confusing gratitude with other feelings. For all his years as a spy, Severus had never been directly involved in rescuing someone and he'd certainly never been on the receiving end of this kind of thing, but he'd heard about it, from Black and Lupin and even little Nymphadora.

All he had to do was get Harry to fixate on something else, distract him from this single-minded approach. In a while, he'd forget all about wanted the cranky old Potions Master and move onto a more appropriate target. Why, given time, he might even become an accomplished skirt chaser like his father.

Severus saw the concentrated crease of Harry's forehead and very nearly laughed at the idea of Harry being anything like his father. The physical resemblance was uncanny, but it stopped there.

Harry's attention suddenly turned back to him, his nose scrunched in distaste, and Severus raised an eyebrow, ready for whatever question was about to be thrown at him.

"Severus, how do girls... do it?"

Except for that one.

*

*

*

Harry laid on the bed with his head on Severus chest, listening to his steady heart beat and staring at the ceiling. Girl were... weird. According to Severus they had a hole that he'd called a vagina and it lubricated itself. All you had to do to get one wet was to fondle a breast or kiss them for a while.

He tried to imagine what that would be like - if he had a self-lubricated hole. It might be less painful, but wouldn't it feel strange? What if he got wet at some inappropriate time? Not to mention the breast fondling. Mister Malfoy had seemed to like Harry's nipples. At times the man would spend several minutes pinching them until they were bright red and swollen, but that hadn't particularly felt good, just kind of painful and uncomfortable.

Harry cuddled further into Severus' arms. The idea of girls scared him a little. They sounded... messy, and kind of dangerous if what Severus said about their mood swings was accurate. He suspected it was, because there had been a few girls among the children that played around Master's house and sometimes one of them would start crying and he could never figure out why. Then there were the clothes they wore, all frilly and bulky and how could anyone even move in all that fabric, but then sometimes they wore things that didn't have hardly any fabric to them all.

Not a girl, then. He let himself slip into half sleep. He'd have to find a boy his age, one that was reasonably attractive or Severus would accuse him of not even trying. The only problem was who, because he couldn't very well go scouting around the school for a suitable candidate.

He shuddered at the thought and was pleased when Severus' arm unconsciously tightened a little around him. Then again, even if he were brave enough to walk around with all those people looking at him, what would he say? He'd never exactly had to proposition someone for sex before. Not only that, but Severus had said most boys preferred girls. What if he accidentally approached the wrong person?

Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, smiling at the strong smell of soap coming off Severus' chest. No, he needed a boy, one that was attracted to other boys, moderately attractive, and that Harry already knew. His smile widened as he realized that he knew just the person.

*

*

*

Voldemort sat on the bed in his accommodations at Malfoy manor, propped up on the monstrosity of a headboard. He'd been there for a week and, to be quite honest, he was disappointed. It wasn't that his suite wasn't opulent enough, or that the food wasn't magnificently prepared and immaculately served, and there wasn't anything that he particularly needed that wasn't being provided.

It was simply that he missed his pet, but then, why shouldn't he? He'd raised it. There hadn't been a time in fourteen years that he hadn't come home to it, hadn't had it there to listen to him rant, hadn't been graced almost daily with its blinding smile, hadn't had to listen to the keening little whines it made in its sleep or feel its hands as it searched for something to hold onto in its sleep.

He'd always thought that if anything happened to it, he might be glad it was gone. Certainly it would be one less thing he had to worry about. However, that wasn't the case. He was finding he couldn't sleep, he didn't enjoy his meals, even planning his next strategy was more difficult without his pet's head resting on his thigh.

Running a hand over the sheets under him, he breathed in the traces of coconut scent lingering on them. He'd had Lucius return to his home and bring back whatever was salvageable. His books and maps had been confiscated, his notes were gone as well, but there were other things. There was the chair his pet had spent hours in, reading books that it had hidden under the cushions, foolishly thinking its Master didn't know about them. The bed itself had been damaged, but the sheets and quilts had been brought over, as well as the large cage that had sat at the end of his bed for so long.

He remembered making that cage. He remembered the first time he'd left his pet in it. It had cried, reaching out for him, begging with its eyes to be taken out, though never with words, because it hadn't talked much at only two. It had only taken ten minutes for it to calm down and fall asleep, hiccoughing softly in its sleep. After that, there had been no more tears over the cage. It had always been so complacent, adapting to every situation with minimal fuss.

Voldemort clenched the sheet in his fist and frowned. It wasn't dead, he knew that much. The mark he'd put on it allowed him to sense its life force. So he knew it was alive, but he didn't know where, or in what condition. Severus had said he'd gotten there and hadn't been able to find it, whatever it was.

If it had been there, Severus would have seen it, so at some point during the attack, it had been taken from its room - taken, because Voldemort knew it well enough to know that it never would have left voluntarily. 'By who?' was the question. Who had been cunning and powerful enough to sneak into his stronghold? Who would have thought to go into his bedchamber and, once there, who would have thought to take the thing they found inside?

Of course, they wouldn't have thought of it as a thing. They would have seen it as a child, but Voldemort knew better, he'd raised it, trained it, made it what it was. It would wait for him and he would find it.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the thrum of the connection, the way it beat like a heart, the smell of the sheets. He could almost imagine it was lying next to him, warm and noisy, laughing softly in those few moments just before sleep...

"My Lord!" The door to his room burst open and he straightened up just in time to see Tibby come tumbling in, Malfoy at her heals. She stood up, her ears bent down in shame, shaking and shrinking in on herself. "My Lord, I apologize for disturbing you, but there's something I think you should hear."

For Malfoy to sound that proud of himself, Voldemort didn't doubt it would be well worth his time. Tibby shook harder, mumbling to herself about being a bad house elf and punishments. Come to think of it, she had looked a little worse for the wear lately. Her hands were forever bandaged, her ears crooked, just yesterday she'd been limping. He'd thought it was perhaps the other house elves, initiating Tibby into their way of doing things, because Tibby didn't often punish herself and certainly not to that extreme.

Voldemort stood from bed, his expression carefully neutral as he regarded her. "Tibby, what is he talking about? What have you done?"

Tibby made a distressed cry and wrung her ear in her hands. Voldemort distinctly saw blood on her fingers. Interesting.

Lucius smiled down at the elf, the very picture of evil. "Tibby acquired information a few days ago that she has neglected to share with you. Haven't you, Tibby?"

"Tibby swore, Tibby promised. Tibby wanted to, but she couldn't. She punished herself, she did." She held out her hands and Voldemort barely held back a grimace at the black and blue state of them. "Wanted to tell Master, but she swore."

Crouching down, Voldemort put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "What were you told?"

She sniffed and tears bubbled up from under her large eyes. "It's Master's pet. Master's pet is alive." He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting with patience that could only be learned from raising a child, his child, his _pet_. "Master's Pet is at Hogwarts."

_-tbc-_


	8. Chapter 8

**A**uthor: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)**  
P**airing: Harry/Voldemort; Harry/Snape; Harry/Draco; Harry/Lucius  
**R**ating: Mature  
**W**arning: slavery, brainwashing, noncon, shotakon  
**S**ummary: AU; rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued.**  
**

* * *

**C**hapter **E**ight

"This spell will cause the recipient's intestines to be pulled out through their nasal cavity, while ensuring that they are alive throughout the process." Draco furrowed his brow at the page, half trying to imagine what that would look like, and half trying very hard not to. He held his thumb over the page, closing the book to reread the title as he had several times over the last few weeks. 'Medieval Tortures Used By the Black Wizard, Lord Lanerous.'

Lord Lanerous had been a a powerful wizard, Draco would give him that. In his day, he had struck fear in the hearts of all those who crossed his path, but he was also a very messy individual. Most of his tortures involved a lot of blood, the rest other bodily fluids. If Draco were going to torture someone, it would be subtle and, above all else, clean. There were plenty of things you could do to someone without mucking up the floors.

He went back to reading the long list of things you needed to know in order to make the spell work. It was a Hogsmead weekend and, as such, the dorms were practically empty. Even the first and second years were out and around the castle, mostly because they didn't want to be left alone with Malfoy, lest they make too much noise and incur his wrath. Draco's mouth twitched upward at the thought that he could inspire at least some fear, even if it was in eleven-year-olds.

Blaise had invited Draco to join him. Pansy had practically begged him, her not so pretty lip pouting thickly, calling him pet name, which included the ever annoying 'Dray.' For the love of Merlin, his name was only two syllables - she could bloody well pronounce them both. If his father thought Draco was marrying that over pretentious, pug-faced cow, he had another thing coming. At least mother had been pretty.

Despite their best efforts, however, Draco had stayed in to study. He'd spent so much time with Harry the last week that he was desperately behind and if he didn't pass the next test his father owled him, he'd be looking at a stern lecture, not to mention the make up work would get in the way of spending time with his friend.

Draco paused as he realized that he'd thought of Harry as his friend. Draco never really thought of anyone as a friend, per say. Greg and Vincent were his followers, minions as he liked to call them; Pansy was a sycophant, and that was putting it nicely; Blaise was the closest thing to a friend he'd had, but even then, Blaise was more of an advisor.

Harry was different. Harry really listened to him, going so far as to ask questions so that he could better understand what Draco was talking about. Harry asked Draco for advice and took it, which probably wasn't the wisest thing he could do. Harry didn't insult him, not even in the discrete little jabs that Pansy threw his way when she thought he was being mean to her. Harry was pleasant to look at. Harry was...

His train of thought was interrupted by loud footsteps thundering down the stairs. The door to his room was flung open and... Harry was _here_.

"What the...?"

Harry slammed the door shut behind him and pressed his back to it, eyes darting around the room anxiously.

Draco put the book down on his bedside table and sat up. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

Satisfied that no one was in the room, Harry relaxed against the door, still breathing hard, but smiling. "We have to have sex."

That was... unexpected. Of course, he should have been prepared for it. Well, not that exactly, but something like that, because Harry was nothing if not unpredictable. Half of everything that came out of Harry's mouth was a mystery to Draco.

"We have to... wait, what are..." He stopped, because apparently, shock impeded his ability to form proper sentences and that was hardly dignified. Whatever had brought this on must have been important. Harry's fear of strangers was the stuff of legends and if Harry had not only left Snape's room, but made it through the dungeons and to Draco's dorm… Wait. "How did you know where I was? And how did you get in?"

Harry's smile brightened, "I asked someone. They were nice." Hm, one of the first years, most likely. "I said I was here to see you and they said I shouldn't, but I told them it was important and that you wouldn't mind." Harry's smile faltered and he looked at the book Draco had been reading, "You don't, do you?"

"No, of course not, it's just..." Just, what? Oh, right, the sex. "Why is it that we have to have sex? Not that I'm complaining, god knows I could do with a good tumble, but why?"

With another nervous glance around the room, Harry peeled himself off the door and sat on Draco's bed, his knees bent under him. "I did what you said, but Severus said that I should have sex with someone else before I decided that I wanted to be with him. So, we have to have sex so that Severus will believe me when I say that I want to do it with him. You see?"

Draco tried to work through Harry's thought process, but, as usual, it fairly well hopeless. "Harry, did he say to have sex with _me_?"

Harry's smile faltered, "Well, no, but..." He scooted closer to Draco, putting his hands on Draco's thighs, dangerously close to that particular part of Draco that had perked up a little at the very word 'sex.' "You're the only one I know and he said someone my age and you're my age and I think you find me attractive enough and I think you're a very... pretty boy, so..."

This was wrong in so many very obvious ways. Harry didn't know what he was asking for. Oh, Draco was sure Harry thought he did, but the logic was twisted in only the way that someone who didn't understand could have managed. The problem was that... well, to be honest, Draco hadn't really had sex in some time, nearly two months actually, and Harry's hands were hot on his thighs and his face was only inches from Draco's, those bright green eyes wide with expectation and that mouth open just slightly, the lips wet from where Harry's tongue had swept over them moments ago.

It should have been a hard decision. It should have been him and Harry arguing about it for hours before one of them caved - most likely Harry, because he was agreeable to the point of idiocy. It should have been, but it wasn't. It was Harry too close to him and his body already twitching for it. Before he'd even registered the move, his hands were on the back of Harry's head and he was kissing him deeply. Draco felt Harry's fingers clench on his thigh and worked open Harry's mouth, sweeping his tongue inside.

He pulled back suddenly as his tongue brushed against something small and round that tasted like metal. "You... you have a tongue ring?!" Again, he knew he shouldn't be surprised, but why hadn't he noticed it before?"

Harry smiled, sticking out his tongue to show Draco the bar stuck obscenely through his tongue. "Tom made me get it, he said it felt good."

Draco groaned helplessly at the thought of what it would feel good doing. Harry leaned forward and his smile turned mischievous. Without speaking, Harry pressed his lips to Draco's and swept his tongue out, rolling the ball over Draco's bottom lip and into his mouth.

Reaching forward, Draco wound his fingers in Harry's dark hair and took back control of the kiss. His other arm went around Harry's waist, pulling him forward, moaning as Harry fell into place on his lap, melting against him like puzzle pieces fitting together. It was hard to think with Harry pressed against him like that, making soft noises in the back of his throat.

Draco made quick work of the laces holding Harry's tunic together and pulled back long enough to remove it, baring the expanse of pale skin and Harry's smooth, soft chest. God, it was like silk under his finger tips. Grabbing his wand from the night stand, he threw a quick locking charm at the door, one that would shock anyone who dared touch the handle. It wasn't entirely necessary, because he doubted anyone would dare to interrupt his studies, but faced with this, Draco wanted to be absolutely certain. He wanted to take his time.

Slowly, he laid his hand on Harry's abdomen and worked it upward until his fingers brushed the silver nipple ring, smirking when Harry sucked in breath and shivered. "This his idea to?"

Harry shook his head, arching his back as Draco dipped his head and played his tongue where the metal met flesh. "N... no, was mine. Thought it... hm... thought it looked fun."

Draco chuckled, because that sounded so much like Harry; getting something as sexually stimulating as a nipple ring, because it looked fun. Gripping it with his teeth, Draco pulled softly and Harry yelped in surprise, his cock hardening against Draco's stomach. Draco left a trial of feather light kisses up Harry's chest latched his mouth onto the junction of neck and shoulder. He sucked hard, tasting the faint copper of blood on his tongue.

Hickies weren't generally his thing. Draco wasn't the kind of person that needed to mark his territory and with the damn leather collar digging into his cheek, he was painfully aware that Harry was not his, but this wasn't about marking, this was about making Harry feel good. Biting into the skin, he was rewarded with another yelp, accompanied with a violent shudder.

Harry panted softly, "What... what did you do?"

Draco lapped his tongue over the indentations of teeth. "Did it hurt?"

"N... no." Something in Harry's stutters made Draco's cock even harder in its confines. Up until now, Harry hadn't hesitated to say anything. No question was too embarrassing, no answer was too degrading - like he had no concept of those things. Eliciting that from Harry was like an aphrodisiac and Draco had to take deep breathes and reign himself in, because coming in his pants was hardly attractive and even less productive, given the situation.

Wrapping his hand around Harry's hip, Draco bit down again, feeling the muscles shudder under him. "Do you want me to stop?"

He felt Harry shake his head. "No. Just... just no one's ever..." Draco sucked hard at the reddened spot and Harry moaned. "Oh, my. That feels..."

The idea that no one had ever done this was both appalling and exciting. Appalling, because he hated to think what else no one had ever done. Harry certainly was reacting strongly to the even the slightest pleasurable stimuli, but the idea that he was doing something that no one else had ever done? That was making not coming in his pants a real effort.

Pushing Harry back onto the bed, Draco kissed and licked his way down his chest, soaking in all the sounds and subtle movements of the body under him. As he unhooked Harry's trousers, he looked up at the flushed face. "Has anyone ever done this?"

Harry bit his lip, drawing it through his teeth before answering, "Once."

It was said with a grimace that told Draco it wasn't an entirely pleasant memory. He wrapped his hand around Harry's cock and stroked. "Who?"

Harry shook his head and Draco felt the erection in his hand wilt just the slightest bit.

_You look like Mister Malfoy._

He hadn't heard Harry mention anyone other than Voldemort before or since and somehow, the idea of the Dark Lord going down on his 'pet' seemed outright laughable. So, if not Voldemort, then that left... "It was my father, wasn't it?"

With obvious reluctance, Harry nodded and Draco let a smirk creep onto his face, more to hide the fact that his father sucking cock was something of an unpleasant surprise. He really should have seen it coming, seeing as he took after the man in everything else. "Well, if there's one thing I'm better at than my father..."

He let the sentence trail off, dropped his head to take the head of Harry's cock into his mouth and tightening his lips around the shaft. Harry's fingers clenched into the blankets and his legs stiffened around Draco's shoulders, but didn't move to pull him closer. Draco lowered his head, drunk on the stifled moaned working their way past Harry's tightly pursed lips.

The salty taste of precome made his cock throb between his legs and he dipped his head lower, taking Harry into the back of his throat. Harry's bony hips jerked as the muffled noise turned into an outright moan, deep and desperate. Draco pressed a hand high on Harry's thigh, anchoring him to the bed, while his other hand moved lower, teasing the puckered entrance.

Draco slid off Harry's cock, just long enough to wet two of his fingers. The first one met no resistance and Draco moaned around Harry's cock at the tight warmth that clenched around him as he moved it, adding the second with the same ease.

He looked up at Harry's face, not sure what he expected to see, but there was no pain, no... well, anything, really. Despite the sinful moaning, Harry's expression was utterly blank. Controlled. They might as well be reading a textbook for all that Harry seemed to care and, honestly, that hurt Draco's pride. He couldn't remember a single time when his skills at fellatio hadn't inspired at least something from his partner. Usually, that inspiration could be found in said partner calling him by various deities, which did wonders for his ego.

Crooking his fingers, Draco pushed them deeper, searching for...

"Oh, god!" Draco grinned around his full mouth, doing it again and relishing the obvious surprised now registering on Harry's face. "Oh, god, do that again."

Harry's back arched up and his grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles turning write as Draco complied. "What... oh, god, what are you doing?"

Draco moved off Harry's cock and up his body, taking in the fogged over green eyes and the huffing chest, while he continued to pump his fingers inside Harry. "That, my dear Harry, is one the greatest reasons for a man to take it up the ass."

He passed over it again and Harry's eyes rolled back, "Wha... whatever it is, just… just keep doing it."

"I intend to."

Draco leaned in, kissing Harry with tongue and teeth. Removing the fingers, he congratulated himself on the soft whimpers Harry made at their loss. It was intoxicating. Draco pulled back and warred between getting off the bed and rummaging through his trunk for proper lubricant or doing a very undignified thing and spitting on his hand.

One look at Harry's dilated eyes, the barest ring of green showing, and Draco had his answer. Spitting was undignified, but giving Harry the chance to change his mind would be stupid and Malfoys didn't do stupid things, no matter how undignified the alternative was. He wrapped his wet palm around his cock, slicking it and leaned forward over Harry, who wasted no time in wrapping his legs over Draco's shoulder lifting his hips to offer better access.

Carefully, Draco eased forward, the head of his cock slipping easily into Harry's unresisting arse and, Merlin, Harry just sucked him in, taking him balls deep as the tight heat accommodated him and then tensed right back up. Draco let his head fall onto Harry's shoulder, shuddering and biting his lip to keep from losing what little control he had. How could Harry take him that easily and still be that tight?

Lifting his head, he saw Harry smiling up at him, "You little..." Harry twisted his hips under Draco and Draco moaned, "Stop that, or this'll be over before it even begins."

Harry's lower lip pouted and Draco captured it between his teeth, pulling Harry into another deep kiss. Slowly, he pulled out halfway before sinking back in. Muscles he didn't even know existed tightened around him and Draco ran a hand down Harry's side, cupping his thigh and pushing it back against Harry's chest to change his angle. This time, when he pushed in, his cock dragged across Harry's prostate.

Draco watched with something like wonder as Harry's body melted against the sheets and his face took on an expression that could only be described as bliss. "Oh, god!" Draco did it again and Harry arched his back, his fists clenching into the sheets again.

Another long, slow thrust and Harry's hand moved up, barely touching Draco's back before letting go and slamming back against the bed. Harry's eyes closed, his brows pulled together in concentration.

Keeping the pace of his thrusts steady, Draco took Harry's hand, putting it on him again and Harry opened his eyes, tilting his head curiously. Draco held the hand there firmly. "You can touch me."

Harry started to smile, but Draco hit that spot again and Harry's eyes rolled, "I'll touch anything you want, just... keep going and... harder, Draco. And faster."

Harder and faster Draco could do, he just wasn't sure Harry could take it. Sure, Harry had been Voldemort's... pet, but he was still so small and Draco was half afraid he'd break him. Harry's fingers dug into Draco's hip and Draco reluctantly picked up speed, watching Harry for any sign he was in pain. There weren't any, if anything, the faster Draco went, the more of those delicious noises Harry made. The ones that said he was anything but displeased.

Bracing his hands on either side of Harry's head, Draco bore down, picking up speed, answering Harry's yells for "harder" and "faster," until the only thing Harry seemed to be able to say was, "Draco, god, Draco! Draco!" Draco's balls tightened and he just barely had the presence of mind to remember to wrap his hand around Harry's cock. He managed to get off three frantic tugs before Harry came, tightening impossibly and taking Draco with him.

Draco's arms gave out and he fell down on top of Harry, shifting a little to let Harry's legs slip back down onto the bed. Looked at Harry with glazed eyes, Draco couldn't help the genuine smile. He rolled onto his back, pulling an unresisting Harry to lay half on top of him. "That was incredible."

Harry mumbled an agreement, and closed his eyes, almost instantly relaxing into sleep. Draco chuckled and worked his fingers into Harry's slightly damp hair, staring at the ceiling. He had a lot to think about.

*

*

*

It was like sleeping with a very large, mostly hairless cat. Harry mumbled and purred and stretched and rubbed his head against Draco's chest, leaving Draco unable to sleep. Not that he could have slept anyway. His mind raced with everything Harry had done - every expression, every noise. He kept thinking about the way Harry had touched him and then immediately pulled back, like he'd done something wrong.

It bothered Draco, reminded him what Harry was and who he did it for. He'd spent the past two weeks with Harry and even with all the little sexual things that Harry did on an almost subconscious level, it was hard to remember that Harry had been, quite literally, a sex slave. When they'd been having sex, it had been painfully obvious. Harry could play his own body like the finely tuned instrument that it was and he could play anyone else's right along with it.

Moaning at the memory, Draco shook Harry. "Wake up."

Harry frowned in his half sleep and cuddled closer to Draco, yawning widely. "Why?"

Draco tugged on the nipple ring, eliciting a sharp yelp from Harry, "Because I can't sleep with you making all that noise."

"I don't make noise!"

Draco raised an eyebrow to the sour pinch of Harry's face. "Yes, you do."

"I do not."

"Do too."

"Do not!"

Cupping Harry's cheek in his hand, Draco kissed him soundly. "Professor Snape must be taking a Drought of the Living Dead if he can sleep through all that."

Harry didn't retaliate beyond putting his head down on Draco's chest and pouting, his lower lip jutting prettily. Draco lazily ran his fingers through Harry's mussed hair. "Harry?" Harry tilted his head up. "Would you mind... I mean, there's a good chance I'll end up with Voldemort this summer. Could you tell me what he's like?"

After a moment, Harry closed his eyes, looking back down with a sigh. "He's nice. At least, to me. I have board games and if I want anything, all I have to do is ask. And my cage is huge. I can lay flat both ways."

Draco's stomach clenched at the adoration in Harry's voice. Merlin, a cage?

And then, because the cage wasn't bad enough, "I'm not allowed to talk to anyone else unless he tells me I can, except for Tibby."

"Tibby?"

"The house elf." Harry sat half up, suddenly smiling. "She's always been there. She makes sure that everything's clean and that I'm fed, but she has a lot to do, so she isn't there very often."

"Oh." Draco didn't know how to react to that. Harry was excited talking about a house elf, who had probably been his best friend. It was sad in a way that Draco couldn't even begin to quantify. "What were the other rules?"

"I have to eat everything on my plate. I have to go to bed when he tells me to. Oh, and I'm not supposed to read."

"But you do."

Harry nodded, "He cares for me. Really. Even if he knew, I don't think he'd have punished me for it."

There it was, what Draco had been afraid of. Punishment. Many a night, he'd been witness to the kind of shape his father was in after a night with a displeased Dark Lord. He didn't even want to imagine what kind of punishment Voldemort would dish out to a disobedient pet. "How did he... punish you?"

The smile widened and Harry laid his head back down, this time facing Draco. "He tried to spank me a few times, but he couldn't. Sometimes he'd attach the cuffs to the bed and leave me there all day or, when he was really angry, he'd make me sleep in my cage for the night, but I think that bothered him as much as it did me."

There was that cage again. "Did you have to sleep with anyone else?" Harry nodded hesitantly, his smile instantly gone and the knot that had become Draco's stomach, dropped. "Right, my father. Anyone else."

Harry shook his head this time, eyes wide and honest. "Just them."

Just. It could have been worse. Logically, Draco knew that. Harry could have been servicing all five of the Death Eater's that comprising Voldemort's most trusted. Hell, he could have been servicing any Death Eater who wanted a turn with him. Just Voldemort and Draco's father should have been a relief, but it wasn't.

A strange thought popped into Draco's head and he voiced it before he could stop himself. "Did you ever say no?"

Harry sat up onto his knees, his brows drawn together, "No?"

Forget his stomach dropping, it was more like someone had run into it with a racing broom. "To sex? Did you ever say that you didn't want to?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know." Draco pushed himself up as well, until his back pressed against the headboard. "If you were sick, or just... not in the mood." After a short pause, Harry shook his head.

What the bloody hell was he going to do? Dumbledore had agreed to give him protection, but that had to be done as discreetly as possible. Mostly, because Draco didn't fancy being in the line of fire every time he stepped outside of Hogwarts. Discreet involved Draco going home for summer holiday and that was going to mean...

"Does it bother you?"

Harry stared blankly back. "Does what bother me?"

"Talking about this."

Harry shook his head again. "Should it?"

Draco rapped his arm around Harry's shoulder, pulling him back down. It was hard enough talking about this without looking at Harry's face, blasé and unconcerned when the subject was anything but. "What was it like, sleeping with Voldemort, I mean?"

He felt the shrug against his chest and put a hand on Harry's head, absently stroking it. "I don't know. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't... well, it wasn't anything like just now." Draco smiled to himself, twisting Harry's hair around his finger. "It hurt when I was younger, but I got used to it. Not that it feels like nothing, it's... comfortable and familiar. It reminds me that everything is okay. I don't think I miss it, though."

"How old were you the first time?"

It felt like a long time before Harry answered and when he did, his voice was soft, nostalgic almost. "I was eight the first time we really did it, but I always knew we would. He'd been preparing me since I was five and he always told me about it. He told me what it would be like and what I was expected to do."

Draco tried to imagine what Harry might have looked like at five, but his mind stuttered and his stomach protested. He wanted to tell Harry to stop talking, but he wanted to know, felt like he had to hear it. "When I was six, I teased him for days until he let me suck him off. I just... I wanted to make him happy and he seemed to really want it when he talked about it. Like it was important and if I could do that..."

Harry's hand slipped over Draco's leg and brushed against his cock. As much as Draco was disgusted, his cock didn't seem to share in that. Worse, Draco was abundantly aware that in situations like this, his cock was firmly in control of the rest of him. The fingers wrapped around him and squeezed and Draco moaned softly, "Stop that."

Scooting further down the bed, Harry bit into the covers. Draco watched Harry pull them back and moved forward again, running his tongue up and around Draco's quickly hardening length. The tongue ring dragged over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the head of his cock and Draco put his hand on the back of Harry's head, staring at the green eyes looking back up at him.

Harry sat up and moved to straddle Draco's hips, taking Draco's hand and moving it behind his back. Draco gripped Harry's arse, sliding his fingers between the cheeks and pressing one against the still slick pucker. God, this was wrong. He shouldn't be doing this, not now, not with what Harry had just told him. The idea of sex with Harry should...

Harry pushed back against the finger and it popped in, no resistance, just tight, yielding warmth. Draco pushed his finger in deeper, twisted it around until Harry moaned deep and threw his head back, grinding down against Draco's hand desperately. Pulling out the finger, Draco gripped his cock, positioning it against Harry's arse.

A hand suddenly gripped his wrist and he looked up. Harry's eyes were twinkling mischievously, all hints of lust gone. Grinned, Harry bit his lip, "No."

Draco's balls tightened in protest and he growled softly, pushing Harry back onto the bed, towering over him. "You did that on purpose."

Harry didn't deny it, he just smiled, legs spread on either side of Draco's hips, in no way attempting to move away, or close himself off. Dropping his forehead onto the mattress, Draco groaned. He was painfully hard, but if Harry'd said no, he couldn't... No. He couldn't, but Harry could.

"Harry," Draco bit softly at the lobe of Harry's ear, "if you don't want me to fuck you, how would you feel about fucking me?"

Before Harry could respond, Draco flipped them, pulling Harry up to straddle his hips. Harry stared down at him, as wide eyed and just as shocked as they'd been at the prospect of saying 'no.' "You... you want me to...?"

Instead of answering, Draco gripped the back of Harry's head, kissing him. Slowly, Harry relaxed, taking control of the kiss and if Harry was even half as good at this as he was at kissing, Draco didn't doubt he was in for the ride of his life.

_-tbc-_


	9. Chapter 9

**A**uthor: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)**  
P**airing: Harry/Voldemort; Harry/Snape; Harry/Draco; Harry/Lucius  
**R**ating: Mature  
**W**arning: slavery, brainwashing, noncon, shotakon  
**S**ummary: AU; rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued.  
**A**uthor's **N**ote: Resumes, after a year and half absence. Shut up, I know.

* * *

**C**hapter **N**ine

Upon returning to his rooms Sunday evening, Severus had been confused at finding them empty. He was sure he'd left the them locked, but even if he hadn't Harry didn't go near the door. The boy quite literally stood at least ten feet from it at all times - fifteen if he heard the thudding footsteps of students passing by in the corridor.

At first, he'd assumed Harry must be in the bedroom, probably taking a nap or something equally lazy. Severus very much looked forward to the day when he could kick Harry out and make him take a walk and, for god's sake, get some sun. He took a moment to reflect on the irony of that, considering his own pasty complexion, but it wasn't as if Severus never went outside. He attended Quidditch games and school functions, like every other teacher. He simply did not tan. Oh, he burned well enough, which was why he often stayed inside and saved himself the bother of brewing lotions of ward off the sun's harmful rays.

As he searched his rooms, finding no sign of his charge, confusion gave way to concern. Harry wouldn't leave on his own, which meant something had to have come in and gotten him, but who would do that? Certainly not Draco, who had, up until now, been perfectly content to spend the day lounging in Severus' living room where the mindless prattle of the masses of immature students didn't congest his much more important thoughts. Like how he was going to convince his father that he needed a new broom for next year.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern became anger, because it really would have been just like Draco to do something as stupid as take Harry out into the public and Harry might have gone if Draco had been convincing enough. As much as Severus would like to think otherwise, Draco really did have a gift for manipulation. Didn't Draco understand what was at stake here? If Voldemort found out where Harry was, Severus was as good as dead.

Severus was just to the point of leaving his rooms and marching into Slytherin, demanding to know where the little brat was, when his door opened and he was literally bowled over by an overly enthusiastic Harry. It took him a moment to regain his composure. That moment caused him to trip on his own feet and land on the couch, with Harry kneeling on the floor, arms still wrapped around Severus' waist.

"What..."

He stopped himself as he spotted Draco standing in the doorway and any question as to what Harry had been doing fled. Considering the state of Draco's untucked, wrinkled shirt, equally wrinkled trousers, and tousled hair, he knew very well what Harry had been doing. A Malfoy, as Lucius had repeated told him in their younger years, did not go out into public with even a single hair out of place - unless he had been well and thoroughly shagged, in which case it was perfectly acceptable, as long as the partner in question was suitably brag-worthy.

The silence dragged on between the three of them and Draco crossed his arms over his chest, a self-satisfied smirk creeping over his face. "He refused to come back alone, said there were too many people."

"You didn't..."

"No one saw him." Draco interrupted, holding up his arm so the material of an invisibility cloak shimmered in the candle light. "Though people are going to be asking me why I kept stumbling through the common's room. Rumor will have it by tomorrow morning that I was drunk or some other nonsense. I'd never go out into public that inebriate, but people will believe anything."

Severus scowled, but refrained from speaking, mostly because the only thing holding him back from strangling the prat was the equally annoying leach gripping him so tightly he was starting to lose feeling in his legs.

If Draco noticed Severus' rage, he ignored it, instead sighing balefully at the prospect of the impending rumor. "Of course, I won't deny it and I'll be forced to send an apology letter to my father for embarrassing him, because I could hardly tell him the truth. Such are the hardships of life, I suppose."

Severus very much wanted to have a word with Draco about hardships, starting with Crucio.

"I'll be leaving you two alone then." Draco's eyes shifted down for a moment then back up to meet Severus' enraged glare. "Don't be too hard on him, Professor, he was only doing what you told him to."

The door shut and Severus was left with a feeling very much like being slapped in the face. It was true, he had told Harry to find someone his age to sleep with, but he'd hardly expected the boy to go out and find someone the very next day. He'd expected it to take months of coaxing and teaching before he was even prepared to step one foot outside the door, let alone get all the way to Slytherin. What was it Dumbledore was always saying? Oh, yes, anything was possible with the proper motivation. Severus had always insisted that was a load of shite. Apparently, not.

"Harry, you'll have to let go, or they'll be amputating my dead limbs." Harry immediately released his grip, throwing himself back half a foot and looked up at Severus, horror written in his wide eyes. "I was joking."

The horror turned to embarrassment and the tips of Harry's ear went pink. He hung his head and Severus waited with patience he didn't even know he possessed for the boy to say something. "I'm sorry."

It was so soft, that Severus had thought he was hearing things, but Harry looked up and said it again, louder and more purposeful. "I'm sorry if I worried you. Draco said I must have, because I didn't leave a note or anything, but I'm... I didn't know that I was supposed to."

Indeed, he wouldn't have. Harry had never left a room in his life. So, surely it wouldn't have occurred to him to leave anything telling Severus where he would be. "I'm not angry about that."

Harry's eyes dropped. "But you are angry."

"I hardly meant for you to sleep with the first person that came to mind."

"I don't know anyone else." Harry's chest ached and he looked intently at the carpet, unsure how to explain what he was feeling or why.

"You should have waited until you did."

Tears stung Harry's eyes and he bit his lip to keep them from spilling over. "But, I..." Want you? Need you? He didn't know what he should say, or how he should say it.

Severus stood him up, steered him into the bedroom and pushed him firmly towards the bed. "Go to bed, Harry. We'll discuss this later."

Harry wanted to discuss it now. He wanted to explain himself and to maybe understand what he had done wrong. Severus had told him to do something and he'd done it, but now Severus was saying that he wasn't supposed to have. It was confusing and it... it hurt.

Laying down, Harry pulled the covers up over his head and closed his eyes, trying to ignore his racing thoughts and go to sleep, like Severus had told him to, half worried that was the wrong thing to do as well.

*

*

*

The next morning, Severus tried hard not to be ashamed of himself as he gently untangled himself from Harry's limbs, quietly prepared for the morning with as little light as possible, and snuck out of the dungeon without waking Harry.

It had taken him hours to fall asleep the night before and he'd laid awake, thinking about the situation and what it meant. In the end, he'd been forced to come to terms with the simple fact that there was no point being angry with Harry for what had happened. He somehow doubted the boy had ever, in his entire life, been given any kind of ultimatum. Voldemort had never been the kind of master to give treats and rewards for a job well done. If you failed in a task, you were punished.

So, in all likelihood, Harry had spent his years simply doing what he was told and when faced with a situation where he could have something he wanted if he did something else, he would have responded to it in the way he had responded to every other task.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became with himself, because he should have known. It was quite obvious in the way Harry did everything he was told with little to no questions. If Severus set some strange, new food in front of him, he didn't pick at it or ask what it was, he just ate it. If Severus handed him a deck of cards and said play with this, he did. Naturally, if Severus not only told him to sleep with someone his own age, but promised a reward for doing so, of course Harry was going to go about it, and as quickly as possible.

Then, of course, there was Malfoy, who took the brunt of Severus' anger. The pompous little brat knew what Harry was, had approached Severus about it shortly after he'd confirmed it with Harry. He knew that Harry was not capable of making reasonable decisions about... well, anything, really. Harry didn't understand what a choice was, let alone competent enough to make one.

Yet, Harry had shown up in Slytherin, asks Draco for sex and Draco had done it. Severus doubted there was even any kind of discussion as to why they were doing it and he further doubted that Draco had waited a full five minute between getting the proposition and accepting it.

However, as angry as Severus was with Draco, fifth year Slytherin's didn't have potions until the end of the day, so there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it until then. Each tick on the clock at the end of the room sounded like an axe slowly falling, waiting to sever the head of Draco bloody Malfoy. Or at least threaten him, because Dumbledore might not be pleased with Severus if he beheaded a student, no matter how much Draco might deserve it.

When the last class of the day finally filed into the room, including one tow-headed Slytherin that still had that freshly shagged smirk on his pale face, he had to contend himself with snapping at the Gryffindors.

"Ms. Granger, what, may I ask, are you doing?"

"I'm dicing my root, Professor Snape."

"That's not dicing, that is butchering. If you can't do it right, you should have left it up to your partner." He eyed her red haired lab partner and sneered. "On second thought, I suppose I should be thanking you for sparing us. However, in the future, Ms. Granger, this is diced," He pointed to a picture in the book that looked exactly the same as the contents of her chopping block before moving on to praise Crabbe and Parkinson, ignoring Ms. Granger's red face.

It was a shame really. Ms. Granger was a very smart, talented student. Granted, she lacked imagination and took far too long on most assignments - spending twice the time making sure that everything was perfect - but when having to chose between that and Longbottom, who hurried through everything and half the time succeeded only in blowing up his cauldron, he would have chosen her any day.

Actually, if she had been in any other House, and if he hadn't already been bound to take in Draco, he might have been tempted to offer her an apprenticeship. Not that he would ever, on pain of things worse than death, admit that, least of all to her.

Finally the hours ended and he was nearly pent up enough to dismiss the class without homework. Nearly. It wouldn't do to spoil his reputation. The class groaned in unison, all, he noticed, except for Draco, who also sat perfectly still in his seat while the others filed out as they had come in.

Once they were alone, Severus fully expected Draco to say something, but he did not. Instead, he stood and began packing his books, slowly and without any kind of tension. The smirk never wavered.

"What were you thinking?" Severus stood as well, putting his hands on the desk to stop them from shaking with rage. How dare Draco come in here and act as if he had done nothing wrong? "How could you possibly think it would be alright for you to... have sex with him?"

Draco looked up then, one eyebrow raised. "He asked. If I remember correctly, that's the protocol for consensual sex these days. Unless someone passed a new mandate stating that I need written consent, in which case, I'm sure Harry would be more than willing to provide you with that."

Despite his amiable expression, the sarcasm dripping Draco's tone took Severus by surprise. As cheeky as the boy was, it was rarely anything beyond token. Draco simply didn't have it in him to stand up to anything - most likely one of the many effects of being raised by the over bearing Lucius Malfoy.

Severus gathered his thoughts quickly and opened his mouth for a retort of his own, but Draco apparently wasn't finished. "Although, since you're always going on about cause and effect, I suppose the real reason I did it was because you told him to."

That was uncalled for. Yes, Severus was always nagging at Draco about understanding the implications of what he said and did, but that was because Draco rarely even thought about it and, actually, this was a very good example of when something he'd done could have serious ramifications and he'd ignored all that and done it anyway. Harry was Draco's friend, his first and only, and Draco had used that, regardless of who had asked for what.

"Now, see here..."

Draco slammed his hands down on the desk, mimicking Severus' pose and any trace of humor or good grace was gone, replaced by anger that rivaled Severus' own. "No, you see. You may not realize this, but you are the first person that he has ever truly wanted and what did you when he came to you with that? You not only turned him away, you told him to go fuck someone else first."

Never, in all his years, had he heard Draco use that kind of language and Severus very nearly flinched.

"What were _you_ thinking, _Professor_ - that he'd wait a month and get over it?"

Finally, Severus found his voice, "I was trying to keep him from making a mistake, one that you have now perpetuated. Harry does not understand and he should not be going around flippantly have sex with people. You..."

Draco's face heated. "You should be more concerned about your own mistakes."

Before dragging Harry back to Snape's quarters, Draco had dragged hours of detailed accounts of his childhood from Harry, learning what had been done to him and what hadn't. He'd been appalled and disgusted by not only Voldemort's actions, but his own father's. Mostly, though, with every word that Harry spoke, he found himself becoming and more possessive. Malfoys don't admit their mistakes, they fix them and Draco knew that his father would never admit this one, so he'd have to fix it himself.

Only the more Harry talked, the more Draco realized that he wasn't the one that was going to be able to fix it. Harry was curious about Draco, but he didn't give him the same kind of blind obedience that he did Severus. Whether it was because Severus was a Death Eater or simply because he was adult, Harry respected him and trusted him and if Severus told him something, showed him, Harry would believe it.

Draco suspected Severus knew this, but it was another matter altogether to get the man to do anything about it. Worse, Draco didn't even know where to begin.

Frustrated, he pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder and glared at Severus. "Did he tell you that he gave his first blow job when he was six? Or that the first time he had sex was when he was eight? Did he tell you that he begged for it, pleaded, because he wanted so very much to be good and the only time he was ever praised was when he took a finger up the arse? Did he tell you that it hurt so bad he cried, but he was so relieved, because it was something he could do, something his _Master_ told him he was good at?"

"He goes on and on about how much the Dark Lord cared about him, but he didn't. Someday that will sink in and he's going to need someone he can trust to be there for him and, Merlin only knows why, but he trusts you, he looks up to you, he _wants_ you. Do you have any idea what that means?"

Now that he'd started, Draco was having a difficult time stopping. He'd spent the entire day thinking about everything Harry had said the night before and the more he thought about it, the more he'd realized exactly how important Harry wanting anything was. 'Want' was probably one of the first things Voldemort had taken from Harry, before Harry'd even understood what it really was.

Snape hadn't answered Draco, hadn't said a single word and a temper that Draco hadn't realized he could possess for someone else flared. "It means you can hurt him, and you can make him feel, _really_ feel. In fact, I envy you that, but I can't help feeling sorry for Harry, because you're going to a break his heart before he even realizes he has one."

Before he could say any of the other things that were pressing at the back of his throat, he turned around and stormed out, leaving his stunned Professor still standing at his desk. It wasn't until he was standing in front of Snape's door that the full impact of everything he had said hit him.

Did he really envy Snape?

He thought about Harry's face when he had been sitting on Draco's lap, flushed, mouth open, eyes glazed with lust, and how that had gone from sensual to mischievous in less that a second when Harry had said 'no'. It was as disconcerting now as it had been then. Harry had seemed so caught in the moment, like he needed it, but he hadn't. The entire episode had been a test, just Harry trying something he'd never done before to see if it would work.

Draco leaned against the wall and ran his hand through his stiffly gelled hair. Until he had realized that Harry didn't want it, he hadn't realized how much he had. Harry wasn't like anyone else Draco had ever met. The things he did, the questions he asked should have been annoying, but they only served to make Draco want to protect him. He'd never felt for anyone what he felt for Harry.

So, yes, he did envy Snape. The idea was unsettling. Draco wasn't used to envying people. He was a Malfoy - if he saw something he wanted, he got it. This was something he couldn't have. He cared enough about Harry that, even if he wanted Harry so badly it hurt, he wanted Harry to have what he wanted more. So, if Snape was what Harry wanted, Snape was what Harry was going to get.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and gathered his composure.

Inside the room, Harry was sitting on the floor, legs folded under him, staring at the meticulously arranged chess board on the coffee table like it was so much Hippogryff dung. Harry didn't look up when the door opened, but he must have known it was Draco, because he said, "He's mad at me."

Draco walked across the room and sat on the sofa next to Harry. "No, he's not. He's mad at me, he's just taking it out on you."

Harry sighed heavily and looked up into the corner of the room, "You can go now, Mimi."

Draco did a double take as he saw the little house elf pop out of existence. Damn, he hated house elves. They were always there and you never saw them and then they went and told your father you were using boot polish on his chair so that he'd have a black smudge in the shape of a rude finger gesture on the back of his charcoal grey cloak. Stupid bloody house elves and their, 'Young Master Malfoy can not be feeding the thestrals chocolate!'

"I just don't understand." Draco pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on Harry again, who had sat back against the sofa, his knees pulled up to his chest, "If he isn't angry with me, then why would he act like that? Why would he send me to bed with hardly a word and then not even wait for me to wake up before leaving?"

Draco put his hand on Harry's head, "People do that sometimes, especially Snape. Trust me, though, he thought it over and went straight for my throat the minute we were alone together."

"Are you okay?" Harry turned around, looking at Draco expectantly.

With a chuckle, Draco pulled his robe off and scooted over, motioning for Harry to join him. "I meant figuratively, Harry. He just tried to yell at me a bit."

"Oh."

"Come on, get up here." Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told, sitting up on the sofa. "Don't feel badly about him yelling at me. It wasn't your fault. I should never have agreed to sleep with you."

Harry stiffened, "Didn't you like it?"

Draco flinched and put a finger under Harry chin, making him look over. "I like it, Harry, but sex shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't be something you just do, it should mean something." Merlin, he sounded just like Pansy, but he did mean it, at least where Harry was concerned.

After a moment, Harry nodded and closed his eyes, lying down so his head was in Draco's lap. "I just... I'm so confused. I don't understand half of what you or Severus tell me and sometimes I just wish Tom would hurry up and come get me so everything could make sense again - make it so I don't feel like I'm on the outside look in."

"You'd rather be on the inside look out? Because that's where you were before."

Harry didn't answer and for several minutes they sat like that, both in their own thoughts, enjoying the silence and each other's presence. Eventually, Draco managed to bring his thoughts back around to where they'd been before - set on getting Harry what he wanted - which was much easier than puzzling out how to make Harry understand things that Draco had always taken for granted.

"You know what, Harry? I think you just haven't been persistent enough." Harry looked up with a confused frown and Draco smiled. If there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was a good plotting.

_-tbc-_


	10. Chapter 10

**A**uthor: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)**  
P**airing: Harry/Voldemort; Harry/Snape; Harry/Draco; Harry/Lucius  
**R**ating: Mature  
**W**arning: slavery, brainwashing, noncon, shotakon  
**S**ummary: AU; rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, he is rescued.**  
**

* * *

**C**hapter **T**en

They looked like angels when they slept, faces devoid of mischief or curiosity. Draco was laid out, a pale canvas that Harry had draped and wrapped himself around. His dark hair fanned out over Draco's white shirt, his long legs, snug in leather and stretched out with his foot hooked under Draco's calf and his knee hanging off the sofa.

Harry shifted on his perch and tucking his head under Draco's chin, the unlaced collar of his silk shirt falling off the pale, bony shoulder. Draco's arm tightened around Harry's waist in his sleep, his head tipping down to bury his nose in Harry's hair.

With a stifled sigh, one of Harry's eyes slit open, bright green peaking out from under heavy black lashes. The moment his eyes settled on Severus, all sleep fled them. He pushed off Draco, waking the other boy up with an 'umph,' as he bounded off the sofa, wrapping his arms around Severus' waist.

Draco sat up, rubbing his sternum, where the heel of Harry's hand had dug in. "Hello, Professor."

Severus noticed that Draco was looking just to the left of him, but decided against pressing the point. Their earlier conversation weighed heavily between them and it didn't help that Draco was right. Not that Severus would ever say it out loud - he'd much rather tell Granger about his admiration for her attention to detail than give Draco the impression that he actually knew anything.

Draco stood, folding his cloak over his arm. "Well, then, you two have a good... night."

As Draco passed them, Severus saw Harry stick his tongue out and tightened a grip on the boy's shoulder in warning. He didn't move again until after the door had closed and Draco's footsteps had receded far into the distance. Pushing Harry back, he held him at arm's length. He half expected Harry to put up a fight at the forced distance between them, but Harry only looked blankly up at him.

With a sigh, Severus took his hands off Harry's shoulders and the boy didn't move. Well, at least they were making _some_ progress. "Go and get ready for bed."

A flash of something dangerously close to 'devious' crossed Harry's face, but before Severus could question it, the brat had turned around and all but run into the bedroom. Fine, it wasn't like Severus wouldn't know what he was up to soon enough.

He sat at his desk and looked at the papers he'd banished there the previous evening. He'd spent the last few hours sitting in his classroom, staring at the door, trying to decide what he should do. Harry was emotionally a small child, physically a teenager and had the experienced of a grown man. It was bound to be confusing and Harry's attraction to Severus, however misguided, was certainly not making it any easier. The best possible solution would be to have Harry taken from his care, which seemed simple enough until Severus factored in that telling Albus the truth of the matter was the only way he would ever agree to it and as selfish as it was, Severus could not bring himself to do that.

It was a sad fact that, a great deal of the time, the only thing holding Severus together was Albus Dumbledore's belief in him and no matter how difficult the situation may become, Severus could not and would not jeopardize that trust.

Bracing himself, Severus stood from his chair and went into his room to begin their evening routine. It was strange how in such a short time things could become 'routine'. He'd sent Harry into the room first, so he didn't have to watch the boy change clothes. A few minutes later, he went through into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, while Harry watched him closely and then did it himself, hunching over to keep from dropping toothpaste on the counters and rinsing the sink out afterwards. By the time Harry came back into the room, Severus had finished changing and was pulling the covers back. Harry pulled back his own side before climbing up and getting under them, snuggling like a small child among the large pillows and, once he was settled in, Severus joined him, laying a respectable few feet away.

He knew it was fruitless, the moment he fell asleep, Harry would close that gap and Severus would wake up covered in gangly limbs, but for now, he could claim that he was trying and Harry seemed to respect that. Or, he _had _been respecting that, because Severus felt a hand moving up his thigh and that certainly was not routine.

Jerking his leg away, he sat up, turning to face Harry, who was smiling up at him. "What are you doing?"

The smile quirked and Harry leaned over onto his elbow, his chin nearly in Severus' lap. "Draco said I should be persistent."

"Draco is an insolent, hell-spawn brat, whom you should hardly be taking advise from."

"He said you'd say that." Harry's hand crept forward again and Severus shoved it off hastily, because while his mind may have been opposed to the idea, other parts of him weren't in agreement and the more touching Harry did, the more obvious that was going to become.

"We can not do this." Much to his surprise, Harry's smile only widened and, yes, definitely devious now. Silently, he damned Draco and himself for putting Harry anywhere near the Malfoy brat.

"He said you'd say that, too."

Before Severus could reply, Harry sat up and swung his leg over Severus' lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around Severus' neck, moving in for a kiss. Severus barely managed to get himself together in time to put his hand on Harry's chest, pushing the boy back.

"Then he'll have told you I'm serious."

"He did." The nonchalance of Harry's tone caught Severus off-guard and Harry used the advantage to move in, burying his face in the crook of Severus' neck. "He also said that if I kept it up long enough, you'd give in."

To prove his point, one of Harry's hands went between them, wrapping around Severus' half hard cock. With a great deal more conviction that he felt, Severus managed to pry Harry off him and push the boy back again. "Harry, listen to me very carefully. I am old enough to be your father. You are fifteen and far too young for me to be having sex with."

Harry's posture deflated and Severus gave a small, internal cheer at the victory, trying to ignore the part of him that wanted nothing more than to do whatever it took to wipe the hurt from Harry's face. "But... I don't understand. Tom's older than you. How can I be too young for you, but not for him?"

"Because I have morals." Not many, but some, and sleeping with a boy that Dumbledore had entrusted him with was close to the top, right below killing students and poisoning Flitwick.

Harry scrunches his nose, drawing his brows together in confusion, "Morals? What are those? Are they anything like appropriate?"

"Something like that, yes." He wanted to be angry, annoyed, hell, even frustrated at the question, but somehow the only thing he could muster was good old fashion exasperation and even that was weak. Good lord, the boy was wearing him out already. There'd be nothing left of him by the end of the month. "Morals are the standards by which we judge what is right and what is wrong. The Dark Lord does not abide by them, society and its rules are bellow him. However, I do and I cannot sleep with you."

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully, sliding off Severus' lap and looking down at the comforter. "I don't... but you're a Death Eater. That means you believe the same thing Tom does. Doesn't it?"

"Harry, we've been over this. I'm a spy. You said you knew what that meant."

Harry nodded, "Of course. Spies are bad. They upset Master and they make his plans go wrong so that he has to stay up really late trying to get them going the right way again."

Severus blanked and for a moment. He was going to have to reevaluate Harry's vocabulary. So far, he'd simply been taking Harry's word for it when he said he knew what something was, but clearly that wasn't going to cut it. "A spy is someone who pretends to believe in something or someone so that they can get information and give it to someone else. I'm a Death Eater so that I can pass information back to Dumbledore and hopefully defeat Voldemort."

"So... you lie?"

He'd half expected Harry to balk at the idea that Severus was trying to defeat his Master, but he really should have known better by now. Perhaps he needed to look into Harry's definition of 'defeat'.

"It's a little more complicated than that, but, yes, I lie." Harry instantly went from unsure to clearly upset by the revelation. It did occur to him that Harry had not once lied to him in the all the time he'd been there, he seemed absolutely incapable of it. As he realized this, he also realized what Draco had meant when he'd said that Severus would break Harry's heart before he knew he had one. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and took Harry's chin, lifting his head so that he could look him in the eyes. "I do it to save lives, Harry, like your parents. I failed them, but there are countless others that have been saved because myself and a handful of others are willing to risk our own."

They weren't his words, in fact, they were reminiscent of words that Lily Evans had said to him once, when he'd first come forward with the information that had sent them into hiding. They were a romanticized version of the truth, because as many as they may have saved, more had died. However, it was what Harry needed to hear and Severus was more than little awed by the soft smile that graced Harry's face at the words.

"Voldemort is evil, Harry, and what he does - to other people and to you - is wrong." He traced his thumb over Harry's lips and Harry sighed, leaning against the palm of Severus' hand, his eyes closing happily. "You deserve more than that. You deserve to be treated like a person. You deserve to be loved."

Harry's hands moved up to hold Severus' hand to him, like he was afraid Severus was going to take it away. "Severus, please?" Harry turned his head a little, pressing his lips to Severus' palm. "Love me."

Severus felt light headed, like he was losing control of himself. It was an entirely new experience and one that he wasn't all that sure he was enjoying. Or, perhaps he wouldn't be if Harry didn't look so happy, with his eyes closed and his face relaxed, small smile still playing on his mouth. It was... absolutely entrancing.

Cupping his hand against Harry's face, he pulled him forward, brushing his lips against Harry's and a shiver ran down his spine. Bugger Albus all to hell, anyway. You don't put a man who hasn't has sex in almost ten years in a room with a sex slave and expect them to bake pies together.

Harry's voice was barely a whisper against his face. "Please, Severus, show me what it's like."

Still, he'd take it slow, give Harry time to back out. "Love isn't about sex, Harry. When you're ready for that, I'll show it to you as often as you want, but for now, let me show you love."

He pulled Harry against his chest, holding him there and Harry sighed contentedly. "You'll tell me when I'm ready?"

So much trust, open and entirely unearned, but Severus took it gladly. "Yes."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"No lying?"

"No."

They laid down, Harry clinging to him and Severus letting him, marveling at how much trust Harry had in someone who was nearly a complete stranger. A part of him knew he shouldn't encourage that. Outside of these rooms, people would use that against him and, as much as Severus was grudgingly admitting that he wished it weren't so, eventually Harry would have to leave his rooms and join the general population.

For now, though, he'd let Harry have his naive trust.

_-tbc-_


End file.
